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zepskies · 25 days ago

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IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind…

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath.

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there.

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases.

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more.

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously.

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now?

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try.

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since.

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled.

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red.

Today, you’re absolutely stunning.

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN.

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float.

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: Part 2

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miniseokminnies · 2 months ago

Text

the subtle art of stirring the pot —- l.sm

⭑.ᐟ pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader ⭑.ᐟ theme: coworkers to lovers, annoyances to lovers, sous chef!seokmin ⭑.ᐟ w/c: 9k ⭑.ᐟ warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of food, stressful work environment, insults, jealousy, switch!seokmin, switch!reader, semi public make outs, protected sex (that's a yes yes), marking, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight angst, miscommunications ⭑.ᐟ a/n: written as part of the Lonely Hearts Café collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here send over some love! (haha get it) thanks a million to my lovely beta readers: @tomodachiii and @lovetaroandtaemin and a special shoutout to @seungkw1 for betaing and overall keeping me sane

Ring ring ring

The chaos of a kitchen is only aided by the sound of orders being put in. Saturdays are statistically the busiest days of the week, and being a restaurant in New York City, Quartz and Serenity is no exception. You had been frantically chopping carrots for the better part of an hour.

“Y/N!” The head chef called out to you, “Go get more mushrooms, chicken, and sherry for me please.” Without another word you jogged toward the walk in refrigerator to retrieve the ingredients. The last few years you’ve spent in this kitchen has allowed you to map it all out to a science, which in a way it was. You felt like a part of this well oiled machine and you handled the pressure with ease.

You piled the ingredients in your arms and pushed out of the walk in. You began to unpack the items on the counter next to the chef. He instructed you to take them out of their packages and begin chopping them for him. While the dinner service ran smoothly, there was an air of stress that always comes with being short staffed. You always pulled it off though, and tonight was no different.

The moment you crossed from the hallway into your apartment, you dropped your bag to the floor and kicked off your shoes. You smelled like grease and sweat. The apartment was bathed in the yellow light above your stove you left on this morning. There were dishes in the sink and cook books stacked up around the kitchen.

Sighing, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You dropped your chef’s coat into the laundry pile and waited for the water to get warm. Once hot, the water ran over you, loosening your tight muscles. You stood in the stall staring at the wall for several minutes, mind wandering to what ingredients you had in your refrigerator and whether or not you should just order something.

The water sputtered and threatened to turn cold all too quickly. You rushed through your routine, savoring the last few drops of warm water. It went straight from warm to ice cold in seconds as you were rinsing your conditioner out of your hair.

Clad in pajamas, you stared into the boiling water on the stove. You dumped probably too much pasta into the water and turned to the other burner. You mixed together ingredients in a pan over the fire to make a sauce. This was a typical meal for you after manning the kitchen at Quartz and Serenity because it was easy and not on the menu.

No matter how much you enjoyed cooking, you always tended to get tired of the food that you worked around all day. Customer complaints and repetitive pressure did that to you. You wouldn’t change a thing though, this is what you loved.

“Everyone!” You heard the booming voice of the head chef call through the kitchen, “I have someone to introduce you to!” The staff and yourself meandered to the center of the kitchen where Chef Choi was standing with a man you didn’t recognize. He was around your age, maybe a bit older. His features were so striking, you almost missed the chef’s coat he was wearing.

“This is Chef Lee,” your boss smiled, clapping the man on the back, “He is our new sous chef!” You didn’t hear anything he said after that, you felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could feel eyes on you but you stared straight ahead. You could feel your jaw tighten as you bored a hole into Chef Lee’s stupid head with your eyes.

Once you were dismissed back to your stations to prepare for dinner service you saw him hovering near your station out of the corner of your eye.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh!” He smiled sheepishly. “I just wanted to introduce myself to everyone individually! You can call me Seokmin.” “Okay, can I get back to what I need to do, Chef Lee?” You looked back to your knife.

“Uh, sure…what is your name first?”

“Y/N.” You gestured to the nametag pinned to your coat. He nodded and wandered away towards the wait staff. You rolled your eyes.

Throughout the night you were tasked with showing your new coworker the way things run at Quartz and Serenity and much to your displeasure, he was very excited to be there. Every so often he gave you room to breathe by floating around the kitchen, observing everything. However, everytime he returned to your side you thought you might punch him.

Somehow you made it through the dinner service. It wasn’t your turn to clean up the kitchen tonight so you bolted to the bus station as fast as possible. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone, knowing that you might get sucked into doing something with your coworkers.

Once on the bus you check your class schedule on your phone, only to realize with horror that you have a test tomorrow. Your stomach turned with the dread of having to be up all night studying, again.

—-

“Need any help with anything?” Seokmin’s sickly sweet voice offered at your side.

“No.” You were already on edge today, you made it through your test by the skin of your teeth and your professor made that abundantly clear. You had no time, or patience, for him right now.

“I saw you prep yesterday, I could do part of that for you,” he pushed.

“No thank you, Chef Lee.” You asserted through gritted teeth. “I would ask Chef Choi if I were you.” He slinked away like a kicked puppy while you continued chopping vegetables. It’s not your fault that he is completely out of his element and didn’t know what he was doing.

However, when orders came pouring in you noticed that his confidence seemed to double from last night. He was able to keep up with different elements, even without knowing the recipes very well yet.

The kitchen was louder than it had been in months, the new addition to your team taking it upon himself to fill the room with music, from his own mouth, to your dismay. You weren’t sure how much of his relentless optimism you could take, especially today. He floated around the kitchen with a carelessness that you would never be able to comprehend.

To your horror, at the end of the night Chef Choi announced that tonight was the most efficient night the restaurant has had in several weeks.

“You’re singing.” You deadpanned without looking up from the vegetables on your cutting board.

“Y/NNNNN” Seokmin mused, “How was your dayyy?”

“Don’t ask me how I’ve been.” You forced your knife through a carrot, “Just do your job, and stop singing.” There were exactly three seconds of silence before Seokmin moved from singing to humming. You slammed your knife down onto the cutting board. “I’m taking a five!” You huffed and turned toward the walk-in. Seokmin stopped humming.

The tears started as soon as the door closed behind you. Your back slid down the wall, the coldness biting through your clothes. It was stupid to cry, but you couldn’t help it; he was so infuriating. You had no idea what Chef Choi saw in him. The tears sliding down your cheeks smudged the swipe of mascara you put on this morning? Yesterday? Couldn’t have been more than two days ago…

The door opened.

“So, what’s up?” Seokmin asked softly, leaning against the wall next to you.

“Oh my god!” You cried, “Can’t you leave me alone for a single second?”

“I did,” he blinked at you, “If I had it my way, I would’ve followed right away.”

“I’m in here because of you!” Your voice cracked, a new bout of tears threatening to spill, “I would have loved it if you didn’t come in at all!”

“Well….technically, I’m…kind of your boss.”

“God, ew, no not really,” you scrunched your face in a look of disgust, “Chef Choi is our boss.”

“Y/N, what did I ever do to you?”

“The kitchen ran smoothly without you!” You informed him, “Everything was fine without you!”

“Now wait a minute,” there was an edge to his voice that you had never heard before, “I have never messed anything up.”

“Well–”

“No,” he cut you off, “Seriously, you may not like how I operate, that’s fine, but you aren’t going to sit here and tell me that I’m a problem in this kitchen.” His words were firm but it was hard to miss the tears swelling in his eyes.

“This is serious to me.” You hardened your gaze.

“And it isn’t to me?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“God,” He sighed. “Y/N, maybe this can be a lesson for you. No one is ever going to do things exactly as you expect them to. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.” He stood up to leave.

“You can’t just walk away after you talked down to me!” You shot to your feet. “You think I’m some dumb kid!” He turned to look at you, you chose to ignore the glimmer of a tear on his cheek. “I’m at the top of my class! I know what I’m doing!”

“What are you trying to prove?” His voice rose now too, “I never said you didn’t know what you were doing! Do you want me to?” You blinked at him. “You couldn’t even julienne the carrots today! Why? All because I was singing?” He wiped the tear away from his skin angrily. He moved toward you and crowded you against the wall. The proximity forced you to look up at him, his face was stone. “What’s your problem with me, Y/N?” He whispered, looking down his nose at you. The cold of the refrigerator made the warm breath fanning across your cheeks even harder to ignore.

“We have a kitchen to get back to…” You tried to avoid looking at his lips.

“You don’t think I’m serious about this,” he planted his hand on the wall next to your head, “So does it matter if I get back to that kitchen?”

“You said I didn’t know what I’m doing! So I guess the kitchen doesn’t need either of us at this point!” You jutted your chin up defiantly. He chuckled sarcastically.

“You’re being so ridiculous right now, are you like this with every new hire?”

“No, only the ones I find irritating,” and incredibly attractive, your thoughts wandered. Rookie mistake, your eyes flit to his lips before you had time to think. When your eyes returned to his he was looking at you, absolutely bewildered. Then, in one swift motion he smashed his lips to yours. The way he kissed you was just as angry as the way he was talking to you moments ago; his lips moved with a fervor that was almost malicious.

Your fingers found the front of his chef’s coat, you attempted to pull him closer. He whined into your mouth at the feeling of being wanted. The sound awakened something in you and heat settled in your stomach. You shifted your weight trying to ignore it. Seokmin nudged you with his knee until you parted your legs slightly for him to slot his thigh between. He was firm and muscular pressed against your core and it took everything in you to not rock against it.

With a jolt you remembered where you were and who you were with. You pushed against his chest until he moved away from you. Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Seokmin seemed as though he realized the same thing.

“Come out when you're ready,” he nodded and left the walk-in without looking back. You tightened your ponytail and took a deep breath before following him out. You returned to your station and picked up the knife you abandoned before the ordeal. “Thin as matchsticks, Y/N.” Seokmin reminded you through kiss-bruised lips.

“Table 13 sends its compliments to the chef!” Soonyoung comes barreling into the kitchen carrying plates to deposit into the wash.

“That was the last table right?” Seokmin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yup!” Soonyoung popped the “P” and punctuated the exclamation by dumping the dishes he was carrying into the sink. You had the day off and Seokmin felt the pressure of your absence throughout the entire day.

The encounter he had with you was heavy on his mind all day, the first day he’s spent in this kitchen without you by his side. He still couldn’t figure out what it was that he could have possibly done to you in the short time you’ve worked together.

“Hey Soonyoung?” He called without thinking. Soonyoung turned to him with a questioning look on his face. “You’ve been here a while right?” “Yeah, why?” Soonyoung reached around Seokmin and grabbed at the carrots, earning him a slap on the hand. He winced and pulled his hand to his chest.

“Can you think of any reason Y/N would dislike me?”

“Hm? Y/N?” Soonyoung mumbled, “Oh! The scary one. Yeah I try not to talk to her much.”

“Because she scares you?” “Because she scares me.” Soonyoung nodded.

“She wanted your job.” One of the waitresses, Jeongyeon, asserted from the doorway. Seokmin switched his attention to her, almost begging her to clarify. She sighed and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “She’s about to graduate, the position was vacant for so long that she was under the impression that Chef Choi had decided to hold it for her.” Seokmin moved across the kitchen to beg her to tell him everything.

“Why would she assume that?” He pleaded.

“You have no idea how long your position was vacant, do you?” She turned to leave, “She was acting as unofficial sous chef for almost a year. In her opinion there’s no reason she shouldn’t have your job by now, diploma or not.” He looked down at the floor. "Oh, and stop looking at her with those puppy dog eyes, she'll chop your fingers off."

Eventually, Seokmin dragged himself home. His apartment felt too big, too empty. He wished he could stop thinking about you, if he was honest. He stared into his pantry and quickly decided he had no desire to actually cook. He popped an instant ramen into the microwave and went to go change his clothes.

The microwave was beeping four minutes later, he pulled the cup out and narrowly avoided burning his hand on the outside. He set the ramen on the counter and dug through the refrigerator in search of something to drink. There was not a lot to be found, besides a full pack of wine coolers he bought weeks ago in hopes he could invite some people from work over to celebrate working together, clearly that never happened.

About two hours later, Seokmin was crying to the credits of Dear Evan Hansen with five empty wine coolers on his coffee table and a sixth to his lips. Whether he was crying over the movie or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure.

He still couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to you, he had new information to mull over, but he still couldn’t understand why you hated him. He would’ve talked it over with you if you just came to him with the issue instead of giving him the silent treatment. Even worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of your lips on his.

Your lips and the warmth of your body against his had been running through his mind since it happened. He continued to sip from the bottle as he thought about you. He admired you in a way, so headstrong and willing to go after what you wanted, even if that got him yelled at. He didn’t really care, he realized you were pretty even when you were insulting him.

Soon the bottle was empty and Seokmin’s eyes were closed thinking about your mouth. He knew he would never live it down if you knew, but that didn’t stop him from delivering the soft initial touches over his shorts. Eventually pulling them down, letting his semi hard cock spring free, and pumping himself until he was stiff.

His voice surprised him, sounding foreign to his ears, whispering your name to his empty apartment. Everything became muffled as he heard the blood rushing in his ears, he felt his own hips sputter and he picked up his pace, fucking up into his hand. He thought about the pretty way you said his name with an edge to your voice and he was quickly undone.

You pushed the french fries around in the basket, the parchment paper soaking up the grease they left behind. You barely got three bites into your burger before you felt sick again and resorted to just pretending to eat. Maybe an entire bottle of wine to yourself last night and sleeping until 1 pm was not your best idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You checked the time, you have to be at work in a little over an hour, and you knew you had to eat something for your stomach to stop swirling. You sighed and picked up the burger again, and took a bite. Your body tried to protest but eventually you felt your stomach calming, thankful to have food. You laid your head back onto the back of the booth and closed your eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths.

“Rough night?” You cracked an eye open to see Seokmin standing over you, a basket matching yours in hand. “Me too,” he lifted his basket in a gesture of comradery. “May I sit?” You nodded, not having the energy to argue with him over it. You sat up and studied his face briefly. He had bags under his eyes like you, his hair was more askew than normal, and he was wearing the biggest hoodie you had ever seen.

“What got you so hung up?” You asked, selecting another fry from your basket.

“Oh,” he didn’t look at you, “I just have a lot on my mind, you?”

“You.” His eyes snapped to you, clearly surprised by your boldness.

“What?” He sputtered around a mouthful of his burger.

“I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve annoyed someone to the point of drowning in alcohol.”

“I mean, maybe,” he dropped the burger into the basket, “but no one has ever been so bold as to tell me outright…”

“Are you pouting right now?” Seokmin crossed his arms over his chest at your words, once again refusing to look at you. “See!” You scoff, “this is what I mean, you get everything you want and when someone calls you out on your bullshit you can’t handle it!” You pushed your food away from you with a huff.

“I get everything I want?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You know I graduated from culinary school, just like you’re about to?” He leaned his elbows on the table, getting closer to you. “I worked hard to get where I am, and I was hired because I come highly complimented from previous bosses.”

“What is this? Your resume?”

“Let me show you, come to dinner with me on Thursday, we both have the day off”

“So you can brag?”

“No,” he cracked a smile. “So we can get to know each other better, and maybe put this behind us.”

You stared up at the facade of the restaurant. This building had been your dream for years, since you moved to the city. Now, because of Seokmin, you were able to dine here? It almost doesn't seem fair.

“Hey!” Seokmin’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Sorry I’m late; I hope you weren’t waiting long!” You turned to him and shook your head. “Oh good, shall we?” He ushered you inside, lightly touching the small of your back. You tried to ignore the feeling in your stomach at the small gesture.

Once inside, he let his hand drop but stayed close to you. He leaned around you to speak to the man at the host stand. “Table for two, the name Lee should be on your list?” The man flipped through a few sheets of paper before stopping to read through a short list of names. Seokmin’s hand returned to your back, pushing you to follow the man through the restaurant.

The decor was almost enough to distract you from the warmth of Seokmin spreading through your body as he pressed his hand against you more firmly. The ornate light fixtures bathed the room in a soft light, making everything feel more dreamlike and romantic.

Seokmin pulled out your chair for you as the host was informing the two of you that a waiter would be with you soon. As Seokmin took his seat, you had a moment to take him in. You had never seen him wearing anything besides his chef’s coat. He had the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up, showing off his watch and his toned arms.

“See anything you like?”

“What?” Your eyes widened, and a blush creeped up your cheeks. He pushes a menu towards you.

“Anything?” He smiles, choosing not to bring attention to your obvious staring. You shoved your face into the menu and began to study it intently. After a few minutes of silence the waiter provided glasses of water and a promise to return in a few minutes to take your orders. You laid your menu flat on the table and looked up at Seokmin.

“What do you like?” You asked sheepishly. He chuckled to himself and set his menu down.

“Well,” he pointed at the wine selection, “I was going to order us wine. Do you like white or red?”

“White, usually,”

“Okay, so,” he looked at you over his glasses, “you know enough about wine pairings to know what dishes a white wine rules out.” You nodded. “They have a lovely creamy pumpkin penne dish that pairs nicely with chardonnay, and we could share a brie sampler for an appetizer?”

“Honestly, that sounds wonderful,” you smile at him. You let him order everything for the two of you. He lets the silence linger for a few minutes while you wait for your wine. Once the glasses are poured, and he’s confident no one will bother you for a while, he breaks the silence he crafted.

“You’re much more shy outside of the kitchen,” he observed.

“I’m out of my depth,” you admitted quietly. He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his wine, inviting you to go on. “I’ve been waiting to eat here since I moved to New York, and you just happen to have your name permanently on the list?”

“I know the chef,” he muttered into his wine.

“I know how highly qualified you are,” you informed him, “you’re experienced out of the ears and I’m just some kid in culinary school.”

“Well,” he tipped his glass forward to clink it with yours, “you can legally drink, so you’re not a kid.” He watched you smile, “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re really talented.”

“Oh don’t say stuff like that to me,” you rolled your eyes and picked up your wine glass, “You might get me to come around to you.”

“Oh God forbid, we can’t have that.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Seokmin was frantically moving through the kitchen. “Dinner service starts in 40 minutes, why aren’t any of you telling me where Y/N is?”

“She’s in the dining room, damn…”

Seokmin knew that you closed the restaurant last night, opened this morning, and the two of you were closing together tonight. So, when he found you asleep in a booth in the dining room, he wasn’t surprised. You often used the few hours Quartz and Serenity was closed between breakfast and dinner to catch up on studying.

Your head was resting on your arms, your ponytail was loose and strands of hair were falling in your face. He reached to brush them away from your eyes but stopped short when he read the papers under your hand. Application for Employment. He read it over and over with his hand hovering above your head. He felt his stomach drop so fast he was afraid it would fall out of his ass.

Taking a deep breath he let his hand settle on top of your head. He rubbed your hair softly with his thumb for a few moments, hoping that you would wake up. When you didn’t stir, he moved his hand to your shoulder and shook you lightly.

“Y/N,” he leaned closer to you. Your eyes opened slowly. “Hey,” he smiled, “dinner service starts in 30. I would let you sleep, but we need the table.” You jolted upright at his words, knocking his hand back to his side.

“In 30?!” You began to shuffle your papers back into the folder and snapped your book closed, “why didn’t anyone grab me sooner?” Seokmin didn’t have time to answer before you were breezing past him toward the kitchen. He watched you until you disappeared into the back room, agonizing over what he would do if you actually left Quartz and Serenity.

The entire dinner service was spent the same way, Seokmin becoming flustered when you assisted him. If he was being honest with himself, he would be impressed with how easily you were able to bounce back to routine. It was almost as if the hiccup from before didn’t even happen.

You moved through this kitchen like you’ve been in it your entire life, Seokmin truly could not imagine this place without you. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he didn’t want this kitchen to run without you. But you deserved to run a restaurant in his opinion. He wanted you to call the shots and to be successful, even if that meant he and Chef Choi would be competing against you after your graduation. Then it hit him; he also wanted to be selfish and hide you away for himself.

“Can’t you move any faster?” You shoved a soapy dish towards Seokmin. The two of you were the only people left in the building after a successful Sunday. You were eager to get home and sleep after the worst lineup of shifts. You picked up a shift from a coworker because you desperately needed the money, but you didn’t think ahead to how your bones would ache after it all.

“If you would rinse the soap off I could,” he sighed. He pulled the faucet head toward the dish in your hand, spraying you lightly with the water.

“Seokmin!” You squealed in annoyance. Grabbing the faucet back from him, you angled it towards him. The water rolled off his exposed forearms, his coat sleeves long pushed up over his elbows. He raised an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge. He plunged his hands into the sink filled with soapy water and splashed it up onto your coat.

It wasn’t like you to sink to his level. Any other day, you would put a stop to this, get the dishes done, and go straight home. However, you’re not stupid and didn’t miss a single look in your direction through the entire day. Seokmin looked at you like a lovesick puppy everytime. Something about those looks lit a fire in your belly, and you didn’t care to find out if it was anger or interest.

So, you followed suit. You cupped your hands around a gaggle of bubbles, lifted it high above your head and smoothed the soap into his dark hair. He stood motionless for a moment, looking down at you in disbelief as his hair dripped onto the floor. Finally, he swiped his hands through his wet hair, slicking it back and exposing his forehead. Somehow it seemed like his features became more sharp and striking with his hair pushed away. Your eyes followed the sharp slope of his nose down to his lips and back to his dark eyes.

He moved toward you quietly. The tension hung thick in the air. He cupped your jaw with his wet hands, eventually moving to thread suds through your ponytail. Any part of him that thought he might kiss you was dampened by the water you suddenly hurled out of the sink at that exact moment. He yelped and moved away from you.

“We have dishes to finish, Chef Lee.” You smirked. The dishes in question were finished and dried in complete silence. The water and the clattering of the glass were the only sounds in the room.

“Let me take you home,” Seokmin broke the silence.

“What?” You gaped at him.

“No…” A blush creeped up his neck, “not like that. You take the bus, right?” You nodded at him. “You’re all wet, just let me drive you to your place.”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“I know,” he smiled sheepishly, “but I want to, please?”

Somehow, he convinced you. You were panicked, too panicked to even make fun of him for being the kind of person who lived in New York City and owned a car. He passed his phone over to you and instructed you to put your address into the maps app.

The ride was silent, your leg bounced as you watched the location get closer and closer. You nearly threw yourself out of the car when he parked in front of the building.

“Bye! See you Tuesday!” You blurted as you ran towards the lobby of the building. Seokmin waved, confused, at the back of your head.

“You need to stop telling people you live here.” The front desk attendant deadpanned.

“I know, Jane,” you ducked to spy out the window.

“Who is it this time? Bad date?” Jane was used to you showing up in her lobby every few weeks at this point. You were lucky that she loved to gossip or else she would have banned you from the building months ago.

“Ugh, no,” you watched Seokmin’s car pull away from the curb, “My coworker.”

“Why do you care if your coworker knows where you live?”

“Honestly?” You stood up and moved toward her desk, “I’m not sure…”

“Hm,” she holds out a lollipop to you, “might want to unpack that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you unwrap the candy and pop it into your mouth, “whatever.” You exit the building with a wave and begin the short walk to your actual apartment.

“Red wine this time.” Seokmin declared as you slid into your chair.

“Feeling bold today are we?”

“Well,” he chuckled, “It’s a steakhouse, so we have to pair correctly!” This was the second installment of what Seokmin had started calling Seokmin's Surely Spectacular Suggestions . You were starting to realize that he knows a lot more than you thought he did. He always seemed to know someone at every restaurant, if not multiple people.

“Oh my god!” A woman’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up and the waitress was smiling at Seokmin. “It is so nice to see you!”

“Oh!” Seokmin smiled widely at her, “I didn’t think you worked on Thursdays!”

“Ugh!” She put her hand on her hip, “I don’t usually! Dosie needed the day off and as a good friend I took the shift.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. You watched Seokmin’s face contort into a laugh. Something panged in your chest watching them laugh together. Suddenly, you were extremely interested in the menu in front of you as you tried not to think about what that could possibly mean. Seokmin and the waitress chatted for several more minutes before she bounced away. She never looked in your direction the entire time she was at the table.

“Ordered us wine, hope that’s okay.” Seokmin knocked on the table in front of you to get your attention. You hummed affirmatively. “What’s wrong? Have you decided you hate me again?”

“No,” You didn’t look at him. You felt him stare at you from across the table, you held strong and did not look up from the menu. It didn’t matter that you had read the words 8 oz wagyu beef steak and garlic potatoes six times, you couldn’t look at him.

The same waitress from earlier came back with your wine and a basket of bread. She placed everything down on the table and turned to Seokmin again.

“Are you ready to order?” She smiled.

“No, we need a few minutes.” You snapped before you had time to stop yourself. Seokmin shifted his gaze to you.

“Oh, uh…okay.” The waitress blinked at you and turned on her heel without a second look.

“What was that?” Seokmin was looking at you like you had grown a second head at some point in the last thirty seconds.

“Nothing, she was pushy.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“No she wasn’t.”

“She was!” You finally looked at him, he looked like a confused puppy, “You just didn’t see it because she was flirting with you.”

“What are you talking abo–” His face contorted into a smirk, “Are you jealous?” He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You declared, pushing out of your chair. You all but stomped all the way to the bathroom, mentally cursing yourself for being jealous in the first place. A hand encircled your wrist as you turned the corner to the hallway that housed the bathrooms. You turned to find Seokmin latched on to you. He pulled you into the bathroom and locked the door behind you. Looking him up and down he looked almost as shocked at his own actions as you felt.

“Were you jealous?” He whispered, “I have to know, because if you don’t tell me it’ll eat me alive for the rest of my life.” You couldn’t help but think he was being just a little dramatic. You slotted your hand into the hair on the back of his head and pulled his lips to yours anyway.

It took him a few moments to respond properly. When his brain caught up to what was happening he kissed you back hungrily. His lips moved roughly and he wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you as close as possible and swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You deepened the kiss and allowed him to explore further with his tongue.

Seokmin had a way of putting every emotion he was feeling into his actions, it was evident when he kissed you angrily weeks ago, and it was evident now. It felt like weeks of anger and bickering had melted off the two of you and now what was left was want and attraction that was left unsaid.

He detached himself from your mouth and moved to kiss over your pulse point. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back to give him better access. Experimentally, he sucked gently on the skin below your ear, earning him a quiet moan. He did it again.

“Let’s go home,” he panted into your skin. “Please.”

“Seokmin we’ve only had wine,” you whispered

“I’ll make you pizza at home, I don’t care, I just need you.” He whined.

—-

Seokmin fumbled with the key to his apartment, his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. Finally, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside. You tried not to think about the fact that his apartment was about double the size of yours. He kissed you again once he had the door locked and you both inside. His hands found your hips and he pulled you closer as he was licking into your mouth. He tasted like wine, the same one you knew was on your lips as well.

“You owe me pizza, Chef Lee..” You whispered, breaking away from his desperate mouth.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he groaned, “I can make pizza with my eyes closed.” His confidence was attractive, it was rare for him to be cocky like that.

“You didn’t buy me dinner, and I’m a lady.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes before grabbing and lifting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his trim waist. You yelped in surprise, you had no idea he could do that. He plopped you down on the kitchen island and moved to the other countertop. You watched as he rolled out pizza dough. His arm muscles bulged as he put in effort to flatten it. “Not even homemade dough?” You teased, “Some chef!”

He sent you a glare out of the corner of his eye, but the blush creeping up his neck gave him away. Suddenly it clicked, “oh my god, do you get turned on when I’m mean to you?” You smirked.

“Shut up…” Seokmin muttered while opening the pizza sauce.

“Well…better hurry that prep…” You smiled wickedly, spreading your legs. Seokmin glanced over at you and nearly moaned at the sight of your panties under your dress. He frantically pressed the buttons to preheat the oven. Once the pizzas were ready to be put in the oven he slotted himself between your legs and captured your lips once more.

You guided his hand to your breast and encouraged him to squeeze. He placed his other hand on your exposed thigh. He trailed his fingers slowly up and up towards your center until the oven beeped. He groaned and ran over to place the pans in the oven and set the timer.

“Take your pants off.” You stated simply when he turned back to you. He nodded and stumbled out of his jeans, the thin fabric of his briefs left little to the imagination as he was hard by this point. He moved toward you and you ran a hand over his clothed cock, he hissed at the contact.

“One second,” He blurted before disappearing down the hall. You contemplated touching yourself while he was gone, but he returned in a rush before you had the chance. He wiggled a small foil package in his fingers to show you why he left.

“Who said you could hit?”

“I–well I just figured…”

“I was about to start without you just now, I could still do that.” You could tell that Seokmin was weighing his options, knowing it would be so hot to see you get yourself off, but needing the feeling of being inside you.

“No, no!” He sputtered, “I got you!” You grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to your clothed cunt.

“Prove it.”

He started slowly, the pads of his fingers circling your clit through your panties. His lips attached to the sensitive skin below your ear. He kissed the skin slowly, letting his teeth graze your neck every so often. He hooked his thumbs under your underwear and pulled them off gingerly, letting them flutter to the floor.

He ran his fingers through your folds, savoring the wetness there just for him. Experimentally he slipped a finger inside, earning him an arch of your back and a sound so delicious it could be the only thing he heard for the rest of his life and he would be happy.

“C’mere,” he grunted, his voice deeper than you had ever heard it. He moved you to the edge of the counter and inserted a second finger. You couldn’t help but rock your hips against his ruminations. He reached that delicious spot inside of you and you felt yourself hurtling off the cliff. “You talk a big game, but you’re so desperate for me.” Seokmin snaked his free hand over his cock, teasing himself as he finger fucked you into an orgasm.

Once you came back to Earth he slowly removed his fingers. Before he had the chance to wash them off, you took his hand and guided his fingers into your mouth. He watched with wonder as your tongue swirled around his digits, cleaning them. You pulled them out, a string of saliva connecting you to him.

“Who’s desperate now?” You breathed watching him continue to tease himself over his briefs.

“Can I please fuck you?” He whined. You helped him out of his briefs, you watched his cock spring free, the tip red and angry. You leaned down and thumbed his leaking slit, earning you a delicious moan. You spread the mess down his shaft.

He opened the condom with his teeth, you watched as he rolled it down. He pulled you to the edge of the counter again and lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself inside of you slowly, allowing you time to adjust. The stretch was delicious. He slowly began to thrust, whining in the process.

“You’re so warm,” he cried. You felt every inch of him as he slid in and out of you. His hands anchored you to the countertop as you draped your arms across his back. Seokmin found his rhythm once you wrapped your legs around his waist, he felt so surrounded by you. He swore he could live with you wrapped around him for the rest of his life.

“Why didn’t you fuck me in the restaurant?” You breathed. His hips stuttered for a moment.

“In public?” He bit his lip.

“Yeah?” You swiped a hand through his hair and gave it a tug. He moaned into the crook of your neck.

“I uh-” He whined, “I didn’t think-I don’t know?” “Oh you really can’t think when your dick’s busy, huh?” He whined into your neck again, the vibrations and the warm air fanning against your skin left goosebumps behind. Seokmin’s hands trailed down from your hips to your thighs and he began to knead your soft skin with his nimble fingers.

You leaned your head back, enjoying the feeling of him all over you, inside of you. With better access to you he experimentally captured your skin between his teeth. Your sounds spurred him on and encouraged him to begin sucking and biting a bruise into your skin. With this your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts.

The idea of being marked by Seokmin would have appalled you just a few weeks ago, but now you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the idea of people knowing you have had him like this. Like that stupid waitress. “She wanted you.” You muttered between moans.

“What?” Seokmin breathed into your skin.

“That waitress, she wanted you.”

“Oh well.” Seokmin bit you again. He was marking you, even after you told him that another woman wanted him like this. The coil in your stomach threatened to snap at that alone. You could envision yourself falling off the edge soon. Seokmin was still massaging the underside of your thighs, pinning your legs around his waist. Suddenly everything was overwhelming, everything was him. You felt like fireworks were setting off inside you. He continued rolling his hips into you through your orgasm. Shortly after he was releasing into the condom, moans rattled your throat the entire time.

He pulled back to look at you, his eyelids were heavy over his eyes, his lips puffy. Before either of you had the chance to say anything the oven beeped. Seokmin’s eyes grew wide, both of you obviously forgot about the pizza.

“Get your dick out of me and turn that off!” You laughed. He nodded and slowly pulled out of you. You watched him slap the off button on the oven, trying not to laugh at him being naked from the waist down.

Once both of you were cleaned up and clothed, Seokmin cut the pizza and put it on plates. You were waiting on his couch, dressed head to toe in his clothes. To him you looked like a dream.

“Stay the night.” He handed you your plate and sat down next to you.

“No.” You stated simply, picking up a piece of pizza. After several seconds of silence you looked up at him, he was looking at you dumbfounded. “We have work tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you!”

“And walk past Jeongyeon after showing up with you and smelling like sex? No thanks.”

“You can shower here, I’ll even walk in ten minutes later, please?” He looked like a puppy again.

“I don’t have my work clothes, and no yours won’t fit me.” You gestured towards his clothes that were far too big on you.

“There’s extras, you know that.”

“Fine…” You wouldn’t mind showering in a nice apartment for a change. “You walk in fifteen minutes after me, and you shower with me.” “You have a deal!”

Finals week was upon you. The only week out of the year that work came second to school, you were so close to graduation you just had to make it through a week of practical exams. You were confident in your ability to pass but your mind was elsewhere most of the time.

You wondered how the kitchen was fairing without you, how Seokmin was doing without you. As much as you hated to admit it, he did know what he was doing, but being absent was eating at you. You flipped through the pages of your textbook without reading a single word wishing you could pick up your phone and hear about the days you’ve missed.

Across town Seokmin was doing just about as well, he knew your name wasn’t on the schedule and he was dying to know where you were. He was chopping carrots to have for dinner service when he decided to go straight to your apartment tonight. He didn’t care if he had to get on his knees and beg the woman at the desk to tell him your apartment number.

He all but sprinted out to his car once the kitchen was clean for the following day. He parked on the curb in front of the building after the short drive. He practiced what he was going to say to the woman at the desk on his way into the lobby. He took a deep breath and approached her.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Y/F/N Y/L/N!” He blurted. “She hasn’t been to work in a few days, she isn’t scheduled but she didn’t tell me she wouldn’t be here and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything wrong and I–” The woman was laughing. Sure he went off script, but how would she know? He looked at her, confused.

“She doesn’t live here.” Now he wasn’t expecting that.

“What?”

“I told her this would happen eventually, somebody would come looking for her and I would have to be the one to break it to them.” She sighed.

“She just…lies to people?”

“Yeah all the time.” She began digging in her desk for something. “You said you worked with her?” “Yeah, I dropped her off here after work once…so I just thought..” Seokmin rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“Oh you’re the one she was weird about!” “What?” “What? Nothing.” She began scribbling something on a slip of paper. “Here, this is her address, tell her Jane sent you.” She handed him the paper and two lollipops.

—-

A cautious knock rang through your apartment, which was confusing considering no one knew where you lived. You unfolded yourself from the couch and padded to the door. Seokmin was standing in the hallway and you almost slammed the door in his face.

“What are you doing here?” You almost shrieked. He held up two lollipops silently. “Fuck, okay, uh…come in.” You stepped to the side allowing him entrance. He shuffled past you, seeing another person standing in your tiny apartment was odd to say the least.

“Hi,” Seokmin offered quietly while you were intently staring at the ground. “It’s nice to see you.”

“I’m sorry my apartment is gross and cluttered and small.” You muttered. Seokmin looked around the apartment. The cookbooks in the kitchen were piled almost as high as the refrigerator, the pink throw blanket on the couch made him smile, seeing a softness that no one else gets to see. The living room was bathed in lamp light that made the shadows in the room look exaggerated and long. The apartment was uniquely you and he loved it.

“What?” He chuckled, “I don’t care what your apartment looks like, is this why you lied?” Your head snapped up at him calling you out so directly.

“I never lied, I told you to drop me off there, not that I lived there.” You pointed out. He gave you a look. “I didn’t lie.”

“Sure, maybe not,” he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, Seokmin had never seen you at a loss for words like this.

“Look,” he took your hand, “that’s not why I’m here, it doesn’t matter.” You led him to the couch, moving the open textbook so that he could sit down. Seeing him sitting on your couch was strange, seeing him here was not something you thought you would ever see. “Are you okay?” He blurted out.

“What?” You were taken aback, “of course, I’m fine.”

“You just haven’t been to work in a few days and after…the activities at my apartment I thought maybe you hated me, and–” “Woah!” You smiled, “why would I hate you? Seokmin, I took the week off to focus on finals week.”

“Oh.” He looked at you sheepishly. “Uh, well, how are they going?” You rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll pass, I miss work though.” You shrugged.

“Just work?” “No, I miss the way Soonyoung runs out of the kitchen when he sees me.”

“Oh…” He dropped his gaze dejectedly. “Hey!” He exclaimed as your fist connected with his arm.

“I miss you, dumb ass.” “So you didn’t quit?” “No,” you looked at him, confused. “You know you could have asked literally anyone where I was, right?”

“No one was talking about it! I thought we were all super sad about you quitting! I don’t know!” He gestured wildly with his hands. “And…ugh, okay, you remember that one day like a month ago? When you were asleep in the dining room and I woke you up?”

“Yeah?” “I, uh, I saw what you were working on…the job applications.” He lowered his volume as if he was afraid you would explode. “I thought you might’ve just up and left, you never liked me anyway, so you didn’t really have any reason to let me know.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “I’m sorry…” “Tell me you’ve changed your mind, you’re not leaving us.” “Seokmin….”

“Is it because of me?”

“Maybe at first,” You started, you could see the tears well up in his eyes. “But now…if anything you’ve made it harder to leave.”

“Where are you going?” He met your eyes again. You reached out to swipe the tears that managed to escape.

“I have a few offers, I don’t know yet.”

“Of course you do,” he laughed sadly, took hold of your wrists,and rubbed the back of your hands with his thumbs. “You’re so talented any restaurant would be stupid to not offer you a job.”

“That’s not what you said a few months ago.” You pointed out.

“Well, you know how to julienne the carrots now.”

“Hey!” You tried to push him away but he held you in place. He glanced at your lips before leaning in to kiss you. He kissed you softly, his lips tasted vaguely of salt and honey chapstick. He let himself linger without deepening the kiss until he suddenly pulled back, looking panicked.

“Those offers are for sous chef positions right?”

“Of course they are, watch out, Chef Lee.”

Three years later

You stretch out on your couch after making the most of your day off. With your recent promotion to head chef at Diamond you haven’t had a lot of time to relax. With your new hectic schedule you were shocked that you were able to make it the entire day without getting a single call about the restaurant.

A hand squeezed your calf gently. You hummed at the contact.

“I’ll make dinner tonight, love.” Seokmin mumbled sleepily from the other end of the couch.

“No.” You stated simply.

“Um, why not?”

“‘The only thing worse than the tacky decor at Quartz and Serenity is the incompetence of the kitchen. If you’re looking for the exact opposite of what you asked for, this is the restaurant for you.’” You rattled off.

“What are you doing?” Seokmin sat up, knocking your legs off the couch.

“‘I would give them zero stars if I could!’” You stared at him, “‘I ordered a steak and it came out barely cooked at all! Will not be returning!’”

“Okay! In my defense on that one, she ordered a well done steak!” He threw his hands up. “Who does that?”

“MichelleJo1965, obviously.” You deadpanned.

“When did you have time to dig through our Yelp reviews?” Seokmin scoffed, “I didn’t realize dating the competition meant I would have to defend myself at home.”

“Step up your game, Head Chef Lee.” You shrugged. “But seriously? She ordered a well done steak?”

“She did! It’s not my fault she has no taste.” He shrugged. “By the way I have plenty of great reviews, and I seem to remember my girlfriend really liking my cooking.” “You’re alright, I guess.” You shrugged. “When are you going to ask me by the way?”

“What?” He tried to stay calm, you could be talking about anything, certainly not the ring that has been staring at him from under his underwear for the last six months.

“You really need to figure out where to hide things where I won’t find them” Wordlessly Seokmin got up from the couch and stomped into your shared bedroom. For a split second you thought you might have pushed too far until he returned with the small velvet box.

“I hope you at least left me one secret, you didn’t look at it did you?” He smiled sheepishly.

“No, Min, I have no idea what it looks like, swear.”

“Good,” to your surprise he sank down to one knee, right there in the living room. “You never were good at leaving well enough alone, I had a grander plan, but this seems much more our speed, huh?” You laughed. “Will you marry me, even if my Yelp reviews suck sometimes?” He popped the small box open to reveal a ring.

“Of course I will, you idiot.”

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shockercoco · 9 months ago

Text

Dangerously Yours

Benny Cross x reader

Warnings - 18+, jealousy smut, fingering, eating out, squirting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, some swear words

Word count - 2550

a/n - here’s the winner of the poll and part 2 of The Lucky One, but it can be read by itself. I’m so glad you guys enjoyed it enough to want a part 2! tysm and I hope you enjoy :) (I will fix any errors later💀)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Benny mumbles as you dodge his kiss. “What now?”

Not even five minutes ago, this man was basically teasing you about your jealousy, and now he has the audacity to be confused. You didn’t want to admit the fact that you were jealous of his ex, but it’s Benny – when he wants an answer he’ll make sure he gets it.

You’re not really angry, just slightly embarrassed, so you feel like being petty because why not?

“Nothing, I told you I was tired,” you tell him as you move away from the counter and out of his grasp.

Benny blinks a few times, confused, because he thought he had just resolved the problem that had caused your bitchy attitude.

The tea you had made before Benny interrupted you in the kitchen is now cold, so you pour the tea out and place the cup into the sink before leaving the kitchen. You make a quick stop at the front door to make sure it’s locked before making your way upstairs with Benny hot on your tail.

“I know when you’re tired and this,” he gestures to you, “is not it.”

“Well, it looks like you don’t know me that well then because I am tired,” you shoot him a glare, turning the bedroom light off as soon as you enter the room. Benny comes in behind you and immediately turns the light back on.

You make a move to walk over to your side of the bed, but Benny stops you. He grabs your arm to pull you towards him before pushing you back onto the bed. You roll your eyes making sure to keep your annoyed expression – you’re going to keep up this facade for as long as you can.

You use your hands to crawl backwards towards the headboard, but again, Benny interrupts your plans. He grabs you at your ankles and pulls you back towards him at the bottom of the bed. When you try to move again, his grip tightens on your ankles.

“Let me go,” you say.

“I know what you’re doing,” he tells you, voice low. He places a knee in between your legs, moving a hand up your body as he moves to hover over you before placing his hands on either side of your head.

Stay strong.

“Really? Enlighten me, then,” you raise your eyebrows as you look up at him, folding your arms across your chest.

“I don’t have to tell you what you already know, sweetheart. You’re not dumb," Benny smirks down at you.

“You know, I’m in the perfect position to knee you right between your legs, right?” you question.

Benny ignores your remark as he moves to travel south. “Since you wanna play games, I don’t mind playing along, but I’m gonna have to add a couple of rules.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as you follow him with your eyes as he places his face in front of your covered pussy. You feel yourself throb as he teasing rubs a hand on your thigh.

Benny playfully tilts his head. “What? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

As Benny moves back to pull your pajama shorts and underwear down your legs, you try to keep your breathing steady.

“No,” you say firmly, but it was a lie. Even though you weren’t exactly planning to end up in this position, you knew this is how Benny liked to deal with you when you had an attitude.

You watch as Benny moves back to pull you pajama shorts and underwear slowly down your legs. There was a small patch of arousal starting to form in your panties, which caused it to stick to your cunt as Benny pulled them away from you. The corners of his mouth twitched as he notices how wet you are already.

“You sure about that?” he asks as he looks up at you. You breathe in sharply as you feel Benny rub a thumb up and down your already sticky folds. “Because what I’m seeing right now is telling me something completely different.”

Stay strong.

You have to clench your jaw and close your eyes when Benny presses down onto your clit, his eyes watching your every move. You open your mouth to say something but immediately close it when Benny presses again, this time drawing tight circles.

“Nothing to say? You had so much to say just a second ago, what happened?”

You open your mouth to try to speak again, but you again get interrupted when Benny presses down on your clit again, stopping you from speaking on purpose.

What a prick.

“You don’t have to answer that, baby, I already know,” he smiles. “But what you do have to do is stay quiet for me because, like you said, this isn’t what you wanted, so you obviously won’t be enjoying this.”

Benny suddenly moves his hand down and pushes a finger into you, your slick cunt making it easy to glide in. Your clit is only abandoned for a second before he uses his other hand to give it attention.

His pace is slow and tantalizing as he thrusts his finger in and out of you. You have to bite your lip when Benny adds a second finger inside of you, curling his fingers into your walls, but when his fingers find that special spot, an involuntary moan leaves your lips.

Benny’s fingers immediately stop as his eyes leave your cunt to look up at you. “I said be quiet, remember?”

He waits for you to nod before continuing, but this time he adds his mouth to the mix. You feel his tongue glide across you before using his mouth to add suction to your clit. Your hips jerk at the feeling. The speed of his fingers gradually increase, making the sounds escaping your soaked cunt to become louder and louder.

Your resolve is quickly diminishing, making it harder to stay quiet as Benny’s lips attack you. You feel the need to grab onto something, so you finally uncross your arms to grab onto the blanket.

Benny stops again. “No, no, no. You wanted to be petty and fold your arms like you’re tryna to prove something, so keep them folded.”

You let out a whimper, but do as he says. He sends you a look, silently telling you to be quiet, before starting up his fingers again and reattaching his lips. Since you can’t grab onto the bed, you dig your nails into folded arms. You want to scream.

As you feel yourself reaching the end of this tortuous climb, it all becomes too much. Your hips buck away from his face and you try to close your legs, causing Benny to use his unoccupied hand to grab onto one of your thighs to keep you spread. His fingers move even faster inside of your tight, wet hole, and you might actually pass out.

When you tumble over the edge and cum, your eyes roll as your hands move to grip the bed again. Fuck Benny. He uses your fingers to work you through your orgasm, constantly rubbing against that spot along your walls. Your walls are closing around Benny’s fingers, but he doesn’t care, enjoying the way your cunt spasms and flutters and the way your wetness covers his hand. Your back arches as you grind yourself against his face, your head falling back against the bed.

As you begin to come down from your high, you notice Benny not slowing down.

“Benny!” you squeak out as you try to move your hips away.

You try to crawl back, but that doesn’t stop Benny, he just follows your hips as you move. Suddenly you feel yourself gush, squirting onto his face and forcing his fingers out of you. The fabric below you quickly becomes soaked with your mess. Benny quickly rubs his fingers across your clit, prolonging your squirting.

“God, please!” you plead as you continue to try to get out of his grasp. “Benny!”

Benny hums into you as he wraps his arms around your shaking thighs to keep you glued to him. Your legs close around his head as the feeling vibrates through your body.

Benny eventually stops and allows you to push his head away from you. You quickly close your legs as Benny uses his hand to wipe your mess from his face with a laugh. Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, your body trembling.

While you try to calm down, Benny stands up to remove his sweatpants and tank top. You catch a glance of a spot of precum on the fabric of his underwear, before he pulls that down to, letting his hard cock free. This is far from over.

You body feels limp, so you put up no resistance when Benny comes back to hover you and pulls your tank top over your head. Then, he moves to position himself between your legs, and begins to rub his cock against your sticky folds. Your body twitches and you let out a small moan at the action.

“What’s wrong, are you too sensitive?” Benny fake pouts above you, and you don’t have the energy to snap back at him. All you can do is moan in response. “That’s too bad because I haven’t had my release yet. You can take another round, though, right baby?”

He smirks as you glare up at him, but the expression is quickly wiped from your face as he pushes his cock into you. You throw your head back into the bed as your mouth opens to make a noise, but all that comes out is a silence.

Benny groans as he sets his pace inside of you – slow and deep. He grabs ahold of your thighs to prevent them from closing and to help him push inside of you. He looks down at the spot where the two of you are connected to take in the sight of your soaked opening sucking him in. A creamy ring can also be seen forming at the base of his cock

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“I can’t believe you got jealous of Kay, baby. I mean you, of all people, should know where my heart is,” Benny taunts. “You’re my good girl, isn’t that right?”

You grab a hold of a pillow that’s been tossed to the side as you arch your back. Your eyes are closed and your thighs are shaking as Benny continues his deep thrusts inside of you. He knows exactly what you like and what you need, which is why he decided to use a slow pace to torture you.

Then there’s a rough thrust. He gently caresses one of your thighs as a punched out moan leaves you. “I asked you a question, baby.”

“Yes!” you cry out.

“Yes what?” he asks.

“I’m your good girl.”

“Yeah you are. My sweet, sweet girl.”

Oh my god.

Benny grabs a hold of your hands and lowers it to your stomach and presses down. It’s almost enough to make you come on the spot.

And you do, causing Benny to laugh as he watches your body convulse.

“You’re the one I’m inside of, baby,” he groans, his voice husky, with his hand still on your stomach.

You clench down around him at his words, causing him to groan. He closes his eyes for a second to collect himself, before opening them back up. Benny then leans down to hover over you, wrapping his arms around your body to help him go even deeper. His head moves to drop into your neck, his hot breath fanning against you.

You think your eyes might get stuck in the back of your head.

“Your pussy is the only one I look forward to having around me,” he whispers into your ear. “Do you know that?”

“Yes, Benny!”

You can hear the remains of your precious orgasm causing a squishing and squelching sound to leave your dripping cunt. You can feel some of your mess leaking down and onto the already damp blanket beneath. You feel Benny’s deep moan fill your ear.

“You sure because it didn’t seem that way earlier,” he tells you.

Fuck his ex. Well, maybe you should be saying thank you at the moment.

You feel like you’re holding onto for dear life.

“I do, I do, I do,” you answer breathlessly, your eyelids heavy.

He pulls his head away from your neck to place a sloppy, wet kiss against your lips. You’re too far gone to do anything but let out a needy whimper into his mouth.

“I belong only to you, ain’t that right?” he mumbles against your lips.

All you can say is, “Uh huh,” while giving him a nod.

Benny notices your distant expression and grabs your head into his hands, making you look him in the eyes while he continues to rock into you.

“Look at you, so gorgeous. No one compares to you. Wanna make you mine officially, wanna marry you,” he tells you. You shudder against him. “You like that idea, huh?”

You nod again.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he smirks.

“Yes,” you manage to say.

“I know you do,” he tells you.

Eventually you feel his thrusts get needy and more sloppy, his hold on you becoming tighter.

“Wanna make you mine,” he repeats, his head back in the crook of your neck as he pounds into your overly sensitive cunt. Your body is limp, a constant string of noises leaving your lips, but you can feel drool dribbling out the side of your mouth. “Wanna make you mine.”

Benny snakes his hand between your two bodies, landing on your clit. Your body jerks at the feeling. “Are you gonna give me another one, sweetheart,” he pants as he rubs circles into you.

He fucks you deeper into the mattress, humping you with need.

“No, I can’t!” you pathetically cry out.

“Yes, you can,” he grunts, and when he gets no response, he says, “that’s my girl.”

You feel your third orgasm quickly approaching, “Please, Benny, please,” you moan.

“I got you,” he tells you.

Suddenly your walls are clamping around him, and you're gushing, your squirt coming out with every thrust. Your body arches up into him as Benny chases his own high. You're a trembling wet mess underneath him.

Then you feel Benny throbbing inside of you, your repeated clenching throwing him over the edge. When he pulls out, you shudder, causing Benny to give you a quick sorry.

He collapses with his head on your stomach, and the two of you lay in a comfortable silence. The room is filled with nothing but heavy breaths, until you decide to speak up. There’s a serious question running through your mind.

“Do you actually wanna marry me?” you ask as you look down at him, your hands in his hair.

“Yeah,” Benny nods with a genuine smile, then adds, “I kinda have to after all this, don’t you think?”

You give him a look as you find the energy to hit him with a pillow. He quickly sits up and stops you from hitting his face with a laugh.

“You know i'm just kiddin’,” he smiles.

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

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2K notes · View notes

kasagia · 7 months ago

Text

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Benny Cross x fem!ex-girlfiriend! reader Summary: After your rather stormy breakup, Benny decides he can't live without you. He'll get you back. At any cost. Even if he has to force you over his motorcycle and take you far out of town. Taglist for Benny: @aleemendoza2425-blog Benny Cross' Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist P.S. I accept requests for Benny if you want to read sth specific with our boy 😊

Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you Bygones will be bygone eras Fading into gray We broke all the pieces, but still want to play the game I told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way... Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back - "imgonnagetyouback" Taylor Swift

“What the hell is he doing here?” You ask angrily, looking out your office window as you see your ex’s Harley parked next to your car.

"Maybe he forgot something from you. Did you give him all his stuff back?" Your friend asks, putting the papers into a folder.

"No. I gathered all four of his shirts and two pairs of pants and made myself a campfire behind the house." You huff angrily, closing the blinds so you wouldn't have to watch the blue-eyed Vandal leaning against your car.

"So what does he want? From what you've told me, your relationship ended in a hell of a bad way, and he was a world-class asshole." You tremble at the mere memory of your breakup with Benny.

You and he met at one of the Vandals' bar. You happened to go there for a drink with your girls; he noticed you and started talking with you. He was flirting with you the whole night and tried to take you with him for a ride on his bike. The first time you turned him down. Then he tracked down where you lived and showed up at your door, offering a ride to your work.

You should have seen a red flag then. But you were too stupid and infatuated by him enough to think it was romantic.

As time went on, he took you to Vandals meetings more and more often. And it was fun. Until you had to bail him out of arrest, pick him up from the hospital, and wait forever for him at home, wondering if he'd be sleeping next to you in bed or at the police station.

And one day, when he ended up in the hospital after some guys beat him up for wearing Vandal's colours, you broke. You begged him to stop while he was still alive and well (which was doubtful considering the doctors were still debating whether to cut off his foot); you literally knelt by his bed and cried like a baby while all he cared about was whether he could keep riding.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst was that every time you argued, he threatened to leave, to disappear, that it would be best for you if he left you alone. And at first you begged him, terrified, to stay, but over time you started to react to those words... more aggressively.

Then you decided you were fed up with living with the wandering cat he was and broke up with him. Roughly. Stormily. Your neighbours heard more than one of your arguments, and the whole street saw you throwing his stuff out the window and finally throwing rocks at him as he rode away on his beloved Harley. On second thought, maybe you were both two big damn red carpets.

"I don't want to know. Will you take me home? The last thing I want today is to meet that son of a bitch."

You sigh, dragging the papers to your desk. You grab your black blazer and throw it on over your white shirt. You adjust your black pencil skirt and grab your purse to follow your friend.

You took the job as a secretary right after breaking up with Benny. You quit your old job not wanting him to know where you worked, but apparently Vandal had his ways. You wonder if choosing another job wasn't a slap in the face for Benny. Choosing such a boring and ordinary job would piss him off even more and prove that you really aren't made for each other.

Just like Benny, you could be hellishly mean.

"What the hell?" Your friend asks as you exit out the back and her car isn't in the parking lot. But there is another Vandal with his motorcycle.

"Johnny." You greet him and walk over to him, crossing your arms. Your friend is hot on your heels. "What are you doing here?"

"Kiddo said you two have a problem in your relationship."

"We don't have any relationship, so there is no problem between us. But apparently, my friend lost her car. Can you help her?" You ask him, furious with Benny for not acknowledging your breakup.

"Y/N... you know that I don't like to get involved in the shit that's not mine, but this kid has been going crazy for a month now. He's been doing even worse shitty things than before, and I can't tell you how many times we've picked him up from jail in the past few fucking weeks. If you ever cared about him, talk to him. He's becoming wildly unpredictable. Even for me."

You bite your lip at his words. You know perfectly well what Benny is like, or rather what he was like before he met you. Thanks to you, he stopped riding so fast and carefree, ended up in the hospital much less often, and even obeyed the speed limit when you were with him on his bike.

You can only imagine what he's been up to in your absence and to what extent, since Johnny took an interest and came to you to talk about it.

"Don't manipulate me, Johnny. You know damn well he deserved it. Now you know what I had to deal with throughout this whole fucking relationship." You reply dryly, not wanting to fall for the Vandals' sweet words again.

You loved them like family, but sometimes you have to cut yourself off from them to save your sanity. And you desperately needed some time to yourself and a break from all of Benny's antics.

"Well... I know Benny isn't easy, but he really is a good kid. Carrot and stick. That's what he needs. And for the sake of your lady-buddy's car and your friendship... maybe you should go and have a few words with him."

"Screw you." You growl, rolling your eyes, and walk away from them. "What are you waiting for?! Take her to this fucking car!" You shout, walking back to the main building to exit through the main entrance.

Johnny puts your friend on his bike, and all you can do is give her an apologetic look as he takes her to where they moved her car. You don't even want to know how they did it.

You sigh as you walk through the office and stand in front of the main exit doors. You glance at your watch and walk out of the building with your heart in your mouth.

You walk down the sidewalk with the other people from work who have just left. Benny's blue irises land on you immediately. He straightens up, stopping leaning against your car and throwing away a cigarette he was smoking. He looks at you expectantly. You nod at him and pretend to walk in his direction.

You cross the street on the crosswalk, but instead of turning right towards the parking lot, you run as hard as you can to the left towards the bus stop.

"Y/N!" Benny shouts after you, and a moment later, you hear the thud of his combat boots against the pavement as he runs after you.

The bus pulls up to the stop, and you run inside. Luckily, the driver closes the doors before Benny can get to them. He bangs on the glass, shouting your name and some curse words, but you can't hear him clearly as the bus starts moving.

You breathe a sigh of relief and wipe your sweaty forehead. This time you did it. You just hoped your friend would get her car back before Benny went to Johnny and complained to him that you ran away.

But for now, you're happy that you managed to outsmart your ex.

The next morning you cautiously peer out from behind your front door, searching for a head of blonde hair. Even though you couldn't see any Vandal's motorcycle through the window, you wanted to be sure that none would suddenly pop out from nowhere.

You sigh with relief, not seeing anything suspicious.

You open the door wider, but something is blocking you. On your way out, you notice a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers. You pick it up and examine it carefully, but you don't see any note or card. But you do see a necklace.

The flowers are tied with a fucking necklace. The necklace Benny gave you at the beginning of your relationship with his initials carved into the back of the silver heart. (One of the guys worked at a jeweler's and did it for him for practically free through a connection or something.) The necklace you threw in his face when you broke up with him.

Furious, you want to throw the flowers in the trash. Instead, you decide to put the necklace in your pocket and walk to work. On the way, you pass a school and hand the bouquet to the first girl you see. At least she was happy because of those damn flowers.

As you continue your walk, you see a motorcyclist in the distance. You tense up and quicken your pace, praying that it's not a Vandal, but apparently you're out of luck today.

"Y/N?! How long have we not seen each other?!" Danny screams as he rides to you. You sigh as his bike blocks the entire sidewalk and force a smile.

"Probably ages ago. How you doing?"

"Great. Can I give you a ride somewhere? Where's Benny? Shouldn't he be the one hauling your ass to work?" He asks, already taking out a helmet for you. You reluctantly accept it and climb behind him on the bike.

"We broke up." You inform him, knowing full well that he's been away from the Vandals lately due to studies and his photography stuff.

"Oh shit. He must be devastated then." He comments and starts the engine. You hold on to him as he drives you to the address you gave him.

The drive takes a few minutes. Luckily, your car is still parked outside the building, and you don't see any parked bikes.

"Thanks. Danny? Can you give this to Benny? You probably will see him sooner than me." You say and hand him the necklace. He nods and drives away, leaving you alone.

You approach your car and curse, seeing the lock placed on the wheel. Not a police lock. A lock that the Vandals often put on and took off in exchange for small money. A small tag was attached to it. It had the date and time written on it—probably their next meeting that they wanted you to join in exchange for taking the damn thing off your car.

"Bad day?"

You flinch and turn around, surprised by someone's presence. You sigh with relief when you see only Mike—an accountant from the company you worked for.

"Bad week. Plus, it looks like I'm grounded." You say and kick your leg against the wheel of your car.

"Yeah, I recognise that. My friend had to pay them like $100 to get that damn thing off. He was rushing to some meeting and couldn't wait for the police and similar stuff. I can get someone to take it off for you."

"I'm afraid I don't have enough money." You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for a weekend with the Vandals. In Benny's company. Talking to him. You already feel sick.

"For free. Friend of mine owns me a little favour."

"Seriously?" You ask, shocked. He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hands and nods, giving you an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, no problem. And before he will do it... do you mind if we both go to lunch? I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to..."

"You know... I would actually like that." You interrupt him with a smirk, seeing him stuttering, unable to finish his sentence as he blushes.

"Really?" You almost giggle at his incredulous question and the gleam of happiness in his eyes. You nod with a huge, genuine smile, practically forgetting why you agreed to this date in the first place. "So... in four hours at the exit?"

"I will be waiting." With a smile, you leave him behind and enter the office. Maybe this day wasn't such a tragedy after all...

Benny was drinking beer with Johnny and Danny at a table in their favourite bar. The Vandals were circling him like vultures, just waiting for a little sensation and gossiping about his breakup with you.

"It must be hard for you, man. We all saw how much you loved her. Like a Catholic loves a goddamn God."

"Too bad she can't see it." Benny mumbles, lighting a cigarette. His one hand plays with the necklace he left on your doorstep this morning, which you gave to Denny. Benny gave you his fucking heart, and you still rejected it. He had to try harder. He had to talk to you first.

"Hey Benny-boy? How are you? Are you still getting over your breakup with your girlfriend? Do you love her that much? Come on, come with us. We'll race to the brothel, and you'll forget about this bitch in a second." Some Vandal walks up to him and pats him on the back.

"Benny no..." Johnny is interrupted by the crash of Vandal's jaw as Benny's fist hits him.

A second later, a beer bottle shatters over the head of a bleeding man on the floor, and Johnny and Danny try to pull him away from the guy. The entire club boos and cheers for the fight, but the guys quickly drag Benny outside.

"What the hell?! You can love her, but damn, don't be such a girl and react at each shitty comment!" Johnny yells at him and hits him in the chest with his hands. Benny huffs indignantly and puts his hands in his pockets to stop himself from hitting him.

"I hate her!" He growls furiously and plays with the necklace in his pants' pocket.

"And love her just the same, huh?" Danny asks and gives Benny a cigarette.

Benny doesn't answer. He smokes furiously, trying to clear his head, but all he can think about is you. Your scent, your taste, the softness of your body, the shudder of your breath beneath him, the way you clenched your hands around his shirt across his stomach when you rode with him on his bike, the way you pressed yourself against him and snuggled up to him every chance you got... fuck, he missed you. More than he previously thought he would be.

"Benny?! I saw your girl with some man in a suit! At that one of those Italian restaurants on the corner of Main Street. You know, the shitty one for rich people. You should do something about this." One of the bikers rides up and informs him, then rides away before Benny can say anything.

"Kid, don't…" Johnny tries to stop him, but Benny is already on his motorcycle. He starts it and rides as fast as he can, ignoring the shouts behind him.

All Benny could think about was how he was going to beat up the guy who dared to touch you. You were his girlfriend. You were one of the Vandals. You might have been on a break, but that didn't give any man the right to hit on you. Not when you had Benny and Benny had you.

It was simple logic. Nobody messes with the Vandals and their girls.

Benny sped through the city, not stopping at red lights. It wasn't until he was at a restaurant that he stopped his Harley.

He didn't turn off the engine, though. He was staring intently through the restaurant windows and checking out each customer until his eyes landed on you and some shit in a suit who had the nerve to get your attention.

Benny tugged on the handle, causing his bike's engine to roar furiously—like a guard dog giving a warning before it attacks. He increased the engine's roar until your eyes met his.

A cold shiver ran through him as you threw him one of your angry looks, and he felt hurt when you ignored him and continued to talk with the man sitting in front of you and gave him one of your most wonderful smiles. Fuck it. The guy wouldn't be able to walk when Benny got to him.

Benny reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pack of Marlboro, and lights his cigarette. He holds it to his mouth with one hand while the other continues to crank the handle of the engine, so that the roar of the engine drowns out any conversation you might have had with the man in front of you.

He smirks as you and the guy in front of you stare in his direction. He holds a cigarette between his plush lips and waves at you, causing an irritated frown to form on your forehead.

Benny can't help but feel a strange bile rising in his throat as he looks at the two of you. You were on a date with a guy who was clearly the opposite of Benny. He wonders if this is what you really want—a boring guy with a boring job and a tonne of money who could build you a house with a fucking white picket fence and drive you to work in his Cooper car and the kids to preschool. It makes him sick to think that you could be anyone else, that you could have anyone else's children, that you could be married to some guy in a suit and live the life of a fucking decent 1950s shitty family.

Benny knew perfectly well that he couldn't give you what this guy could provide you. He couldn't even afford a date at a restaurant like that.

However, it didn't change the fact that he loved you so damn much.

"Hey! Biker dude, leave Y/N alone!" A guy in a suit comes out of the restaurant and yells at him. Benny calmly finishes his cigarette and throws it on the ground, staring silently at the man in front of him. "Did you hear me, degenerate? Get out of here!" The guy pushes him, hitting his chest. For Benny, that's enough.

He lands the first punch with his right fist, landing perfectly on his opponent's cheek. The next punch sends blood pouring from the man's nose onto his snow-white shirt. But for Benny, it's not enough.

He throws the guy to the ground, and the two begin to fight in earnest. Benny, however, has a much greater advantage and motivation as he takes out all his anger on the guy below him. He only snaps out of this strange trance when someone's hands pull him away from the bleeding man below him.

"What the fuck was that, Benny?! You almost killed him!" You yell at him angrily, pulling your hands away from him as quickly as you can. Benny says nothing, staring at you silently as he processes what he just did. Several other motorcycles pull up in front of the restaurant, with Johnny in the lead.

"Let's go, kid! Before the police arrive."

Benny stares at you, not quite wanting to leave before he explains why he beat up your date. But he stops himself the moment he sees the fear and disgust in your eyes. It hurts Benny more than any punch he could have taken. He clenches his jaw and walks to his bike. He starts the engine and gives you one last long look, then lowers his head in shame as he joins the other Vandals.

Your hair flutters in the wind as you watch the Vandals drive away. You run over to Mike and wait with him until the ambulance arrives. But you don't follow him to the hospital. You have more important things to take care of in the city.

With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You wait patiently outside, considering the pros and cons, but before you can chicken out and leave, Betty opens the door for you.

"Y/N? This is quite a surprise."

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you." The woman makes room for you and lets you in. You greet her and Johnny's daughters, who are watching a cartoon on TV, and you go with her to the kitchen, where you can talk in peace. "It's about Benny."

"I expected it. You know, we were all very surprised when you broke up. We were convinced that a week longer and the boy would start looking for an engagement ring for you."

"Benny and marriage? Not in this lifetime, I guess." You scoff and sit down at the small kitchen island with a smile, thanking her for the coffee she made you. "He fucking almost beat my date to death today. He's acting crazy. Johnny tells me he's been like this since I broke up with him, but we both know he was like this long before we even met. What the hell am I supposed to do, Betty? Get out of town? Out of America? Vandals have expanded all over the states, and most of them aren't the same old club they used to be."

"I know. Believe me, I know best." Silence falls between you after her words. You nod, understanding perfectly that she of you had the most right to worry. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. "Y/N... I'll give you some advice. If you don't care about him that much... if you think you can forget and move on, then save yourself. Run away wherever you want, as far away from him as possible, and forget. But if you can't... then stay and talk some sense into him before it's too late to save him."

"Save him? You know perfectly well he won't abandon the Vandals."

"Like you said, they're not the same Vandals they used to be. They've changed. Johnny sees it. Benny sees it. And they both still fool themselves, but when some shit happens, it finally gets to them. And believe me, Benny loves his bike and freedom, but the Vandals aren't his family anymore. You are." You fall silent at her words, processing everything she said. You nod and sigh, taking a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. "We smoke outside." She admonishes you. You laugh quietly and raise your hands in surrender.

"All right. Thanks for everything, Betty." You sigh as you leave the house. You light a cigarette and walk across town to the Vandals' bar. You have to finish everything you had to finish with Benny. You couldn't just leave town without a word. There's no telling what the Vandal would do if you suddenly disappeared.

You throw your cigarette into the bin and take a few calming breaths as you approach the biker's bar. Their engines are already roaring, and some of them, probably the young and new ones, eye you warily as you enter.

You look around the bar and frown, unable to find Benny. You walk further in, pushing through the sea of people and sitting at the head table where Johnny sits with his most important men.

"Hello there. Where is Benny?" You ask them, taking the beer from Johnny. The man raises an eyebrow at you and watches as you take a sip.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to him?"

"I have to. I'm leaving town soon. I'd rather tell that to that ticking bomb." Johnny nods, fully realising what you mean. You see Cockroach get up from the table and go to the phone. You try to listen in on the conversation, but Johnny effectively talks you over and drowns out any conversation the man was having at the bar.

"When are you coming back?" He asks, but you don't answer. You take a sip of beer and tap your finger on the neck of the bottle. "I see. The kid won't be happy, you know that?"

"We are no longer together." You snap back, trying your best to maintain your relatively indifferent attitude. "Besides, after the shit he did today, he only proved that I can't stay here anymore."

"He went for a ride. He'll probably be at the lake. Or on the streets breaking a few traffic laws. You know him."

"Too well." You nod and stand up from the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cockroach exit the bar and get on his bike. You frown and shake your head. They're not your problem anymore. "Tell him I'm looking for him. When you will see him."

"Sure." He agrees and nods. You nod back and turn to leave the bar. You scan the place one last time, knowing full well that you'll probably never set foot in it again.

Your heart clenches as you remember all the times you spent here. Both the good and the bad. Shortly after you broke up with Benny, you cursed this building. You'd rather see it burn down, along with all the Vandals that reminded you of what you'd lost.

You try to hold back the tears that are welling up in your eyes as you involuntarily recall your first meeting with Benny. The pool table is still in the same spot. How easy it would have been for you not to have looked that damned way and not fallen for the charm of those blue irises and the exposed muscles of his arms. How much disappointment and heartbreak you would have avoided if you had never entered that bar. And as much as you despised and hated that place, you loved it and the people in it for a long time and fiercely. And one of them in particular.

But how much more tragedy and sadness could you endure? How long could you live in fear and uncertainty in a relationship that was supposed to bring you only happiness and those good thrills?

Benny wanted to be free. So you will give him that freedom.

"Y/N!" Johnny calls after you before you leave. You sigh and turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." You nod at him and leave the bar.

You leave everything behind. And you feel like a piece of you is dying in the flames of time and the cry of your tormented heart..

Surprisingly, it doesn't take you long to pack. Nor does it take you long to get off work. Two days later, you're standing in the hallway of your house, ready to hand over the keys to your cousin, who's supposed to be selling it.

You stare at the picture Danny took of you and Benny when you were sitting at one of the biker picnics. Benny and you were leaning against his bike. He had his arm over your shoulder and was staring at you with loving puppy eyes while you smiled at the camera.

You sigh, putting the photo into your wallet and impatiently waiting for your cousin.

Just then, there's a knock on your door. You sigh and open it. You freeze, completely shocked, when you see Benny there.

"I didn't hear your bike."

"I parked down the street. So you don't get scared and run away." He says, still leaning against your door frame.

"I'm not scared of you." You huff indignantly, looking at the scratches on his face. You frown, not remembering him getting any injuries from Mike.

"I had an accident."

"Of course you had." You snort, crossing your arms over your chest. You see his jaw quiver slightly, but he just continues to stare at you with those stupid blue eyes of his, like you're the only girl in the world. "I'm leaving." You inform him, swallowing hard and waiting for his reaction. He drops his gaze to your hands and nods.

"I can see that." He says, nodding at the large travel backpack behind you.

"I won't come back." You inform him, carefully observing his reaction to it. Of course, he doesn't show anything. His face is stony as he looks at you, and his facial muscles don't even move as he doesn't reveal a single emotion to you.

"You won't come back." He repeats, not moving an inch from his spot by your door. You clench your teeth in irritation, to which he just smiles. And oh, that damn smile of his...

"That's it. You can go. You always said you'd be the one to leave. Too bad I had to be the one with the balls to do it." You say angrily, ready for him to turn around and walk to his bike, but all he does is continue to stare at you. You shake your head and push past him when you see your cousin.

You ignore Benny as you sort out the details with your cousin. You grab your backpack and walk him back to his car. You say goodbye to him and watch the car drive away. As you turn to go to the bus stop, you bump into Benny's chest.

"Sorry. I didn't see you." You say, quickly pulling away from him and trying to suppress your blush after your hands were briefly on his chest. The damn thing still had some well-trained muscles.

"Give you a lift?" He asks you seemingly innocently and puts his hands in his pockets. His gaze burns you, making your blush stay on your cheeks a little longer.

"Where are you going?" You ask as you both walk in the same direction. You don't feel like going with him, but you're not going to tell him that yet. You know he'll think of anything to make you get on that fucking bike with him.

"Florida." At those words, you freeze and stand still. You swallow and look at him for a long moment as you remember how you once begged him to go to his cousin in Florida and start a new life there. Then he chose his bike. And you chose yourself.

"To your cousin?" You ask carefully, resuming your walk.

"He hired me at his car workshop." Benny nods, walking glued to your side with his hands clasped behind him.

You feel strangely at ease talking to him. You're out of the habit of it. Of having him so close to you, of feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, of his intoxicating scent, of having his hypnotising irises focused on you and of listening to that raspy voice of his.

You missed him.

"You will have a job?" You ask, shocked. You can't imagine a free spirit like Benny finding a permanent job with set hours. "Well... that's good for you. I guess." You comment as you both walk. Suddenly he steps in front of you and stops. You sigh when you see his bike parked exactly two steps away from you. Fuck, you let that son of a bitch lead you to his bike.

"Are you getting in?" He asks, nodding at his bike. And as much as you want to say yes, you know it'll be bad for both you and him.

You shouldn't be together. Or at least you didn't think so. Even though you loved him so damn much.

"I will buy a train ticket." You politely decline his offer. You expect him to nod silently, get on your bike, and ride off into the sunset forever, but he still stands firmly in front of you, blocking your path.

"Where to?" He asks and looks at you suspiciously, as if he knew perfectly well that you didn't know where you were going yet. You only knew that it was definitely far from Benny.

"You don't need to know." You growl stubbornly, trying to get past him and finally move on.

But Benny won't let you. Before you can register any movement, he moves quickly and takes your hands. He wraps them tightly around his waist, and suddenly you hear a metallic click and something cold and heavy being placed on your forearms. Handcuffs. Bloody handcuffs.

"Benny!!" You growl at him angrily and struggle as he walks towards his bike. "Where the hell did you get handcuffs from?"

"Cockroach." He answers shortly and sits down, making you have to follow his lead. He fucking kidnaps you.

"Benny... let me go!" You scream, trying to punch him in the stomach, but the handcuffs are so short and far enough away from your wrists that all you can do is hold on tight as he prepares to ride.

"Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you." He tells you calmly, and you stare at him in disbelief. What the fuck?

"Don't joke! Benny!" Either he ignores your screams (which is most likely) or he doesn't hear them because at that very moment he starts the engine of his Harley.

So all you can do is sit behind him, holding on tight as he drives who knows where. Amazingly, he stops at red lights and doesn't go over the speed limit. It's only when he gets to the highway that he drives a little faster than the speed limit, but not enough to be considered dangerous driving.

You rest your cheek against his back in defeat as you realise there is absolutely no way out of this. Not if you want to stay alive. You can feel him relax a little as he rides forward, and you are not trying to fight with him. You sigh, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to rest behind him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of freedom as you whizzed through the air on his bike.

Fuck, you missed it.

The only break you get is a stop at a motel when the fuel runs out and the cold night starts to set in. Benny rents you a room (which is surprising because you were always the one paying) at the motel and leaves you there while he goes to fill up his Harley.

You think about escaping, but:

1. Benny took away the keys and locked you up there.

2. He made sure to rent a room on the highest floor of this damn building.

3. You were too tired and hungry after the ride to come up with some plan.

That's why you lay on the bed and wait for him to come back. Hopefully with food. It would be nice to eat something before you will kill him.

As if on cue, the keys turn in the door, and Benny steps inside. In his hand he has a large paper bag, which he places on the bed opposite you in an apologetic gesture of sacrifice for his sins. He can go to hell. Him and his damn puppy eyes.

"What is it?"

"Burgers. Took it for you. Your favourite." He says and makes sure he's locked the door. He puts the key in the keyhole and goes to the window.

He looks at his bike and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one and looks outside, not sparing you a single glance.

"Where's your jacket?" You ask, seeing as he's not wearing his Vandals' colours. It was weird seeing him in just a T-shirt.

"On a bike in the trunk. I don't know if they'd let me here wearing that."

"You never took it off." You say shocked and raise your eyebrows at him. "You will be cold without it." You notice and take the food out of the bag. You don't eat yet, wondering if you should leave him some, if he even ate anything before he came here.

"I was cold without you." He answers quickly without even thinking much about what he's saying. You see his cheeks redden slightly as he realises he said it out loud. "Eat." He clears his throat and takes a drag on his cigarette. You sigh and start eating. You hum, savouring the delicious food, and you swear you hear him chuckle quietly from his spot by the window. Big bastard.

"Where we going?" You ask him before biting into your burger. You frown as grease leaks onto your fingers. You lick them, unconsciously teasing Benny as he... imagines what your lips wrapped around just as perfectly as they now were wrapped around your fingers. He clears his throat, seeing that you’ve caught him staring at you.

"Florida. I want to show you something." You eat in silence, wondering what he wants to show you that makes him literally chain you to himself and drag you out of town.

"And then?" You can't stand it anymore and finally ask, curious about his future plans and how long he actually wants to keep you with him.

"And then you will decide."

"Decide what? Do I want the fur handcuffs or the regular metal ones?" You snap at him, irritated.

Your sharp mockery makes him throw his cigarette out the window, and his gaze lingers there, as if he were ashamed of what he had done. On the other hand, you didn't give him much of an exit or opportunity to talk normally. You wanted to leave—just like he had promised so many times that he would do. So why did he stubbornly want to keep you if he had never cared?

Benny wasn't one for words. He was sparing with his thoughts and emotions. And for a while, his actions spoke loud enough of his devotion to you. For a while. Then your honeymoon phase wore off, and you were annoyed that he never verbally confirmed to you what his eyes had told you so many times as he held you close by the fire at night at one of the Vandals meetings.

On this particular night, some famous actress that the guys were crazy about was coming to town. Half of them got on their bikes halfway through the party and wanted Benny to join them in hunting her down and taking a picture with her. They even bribed Danny to go with them and take their stupid pictures.

"Come on, Benny. You're not coming with us? I remember you were the one who hung her poster in the club so you could get a good view of her from the pool table." One of the guys was convincing Benny, who was currently lying on the grass and resting his head on your lap, practically forcing you to comb your hands through his blonde locks.

"I have a much better view here!" He shouts at them, not even turning his head in their direction. His blue eyes never leave your face. You blush a little, ducking your head and closing your eyes as you try to ignore the whistles and teasing from the boys at his response.

A moment later, Benny props himself up on his elbows and steals the most delightful, mind-numbing kiss. You cup his cheek in your hand and let yourself sink into the feeling of his soft lips against yours, letting out a quiet sigh when he tangles his hand in your hair and presses you against the trunk of the tree behind you. You ignore the cheering Vandals put on and completely immerse yourself in your little bubble with Benny.

Everyone had their poison. For Benny, it was cigarettes and his Harley. For you, it was him. And back then it didn't bother you one bit.

"I... if you want to go you can. I won't stop you." Benny mumbles under his breath, pulling you from your thoughts. You shake your head, snorting, and set the bag of food on the nightstand next to your bed.

"Thank you so much that you provide me with my basic human rights!" You growl at him angrily, reminding him about those stupid handcuffs.

"You didn't even want to give me a chance to explain myself to you. And you know perfectly well that I never ask for anything or expect anything in return. I... I didn't see any other way to get to you. And I'm not going to apologise for that."

You roll your eyes at him, irritated. But you can't say you don't see the reasoning behind his actions. But the prospect of being dragged around by him deeply offends your innate feminism.

Seeing that you have nothing to add to the matter, he closes the window. He walks over to you and grabs the blanket off the bed. You frown as he sits down in the armchair, clearly intending to sleep there. And you don't like the fact that even though you had him in the same room, you won't be able to have his arms wrapped around you. Especially since it's so damn cold in this motel.

"Come here. You will get sick by sitting near this window. It is cold outside, and they don't even heat the room." You grumble and make room for him on the bed, hoping that you don't have to tell him the real reason you want him next to you to get him in the same bed with you.

"I will be fine." He speaks carelessly and reaches into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Benjamin Cross." You growl at him, which finally gets his full attention. "Get your fucking ass here." Benny rolls his eyes but obediently stands up. He takes off his shoes and lies down next to you in bed.

He covers you with an extra blanket and leaves an absurd amount of space between you that you honestly hate. But you won't make the first move and throw yourself into his arms. Not after he kidnapped you. But... could it really be considered kidnapping if you partly wanted it and you didn't really have anywhere else to be?

You sigh, tossing and turning in your bed as you try to find a slightly comfortable sleeping position. But it's impossible to fall asleep with Benny so close to you when you are not even able to touch him. Especially when his warmth and scent reach you, assaulting you and every ounce of restraint and self-control you had.

"What's the matter with you?" Benny asks as you toss and turn in frustration once again.

"Nothing."

Benny knows that tone. All too well. So he hesitantly moves closer to you and experimentally places a hand on your waist. When you don't push away from him, he gently pulls you toward him and tightens his hold, pressing his chest against your back. You sigh and press your lips to his forearm, rubbing your nose against the tattooed skin.

Benny doesn't comment on that. That's something you like about him. That even when you do completely absurd things, he doesn't comment on it, doesn't deny it, just stands by you in silence. Just like now.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze it so hard that his rings dig into it. But you don't care. It's nice to finally have him this close.

Benny rests his chin on your shoulder and runs his nose against your temple. His beard gently tickles you, but you do nothing about it. It's been a long time since you've had this feeling of him close to you. You turn in his arms and snuggle into him.

Benny gently strokes your back with his hand, holding you close to him without a word as you revel in his scent. For a moment you forget why you should be mad at him and stay as far away from him as possible. So when his lips fall to your forehead and he presses a long kiss there, you grab his chin and steal the kiss from him.

His full, plump lips feel wonderful against yours and caress you nicely. You moan when you can finally taste his lips on yours again, and you remember how much you've missed this feeling. His hand roams over you, and you let him touch you wherever he wants. Benny, on the other hand, is confused. One moment you're yelling at him and you're angry, and the next you want him close to you and you kiss him like there's no tomorrow. It's a nice change. But Benny is afraid of how long it will last. Of how much longer will you want him? And will you want to leave again?

For now, he had you back in his arms. And he wanted to savour that feeling. And he will give you a goddamn reason to stay.

He cups your cheek in his hand and deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth again, as if learning you all over again, before wrapping his tongue around yours. You sigh as his hand slides teasingly from your cheek, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and to the hem of your jeans.

"Benny..." You sigh as his cold fingers touch the skin of your stomach after he unbuttons your jeans TOO slowly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Benny almost chuckles at how fast and furious your head is shaking. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep from making any sound as he gently brushes his fingers over your folds. The motel walls were thin after all. "Open your eyes for me, my little rascal, and say the words. After this, there will be no turning back."

You don't even think about turning back. You don't think about leaving him. You only think about how wonderful it is to have him by your side again, how wonderful his hands feel on you, and how much you want to kiss his stupid mouth until you both have enough breath. And that's exactly what you do.

With that form of agreement from you, his fingers gently delve into your folds, exploring previously familiar territory and teasing you unintentionally as he tries to appreciate every little second he has with you.

Sex with Benny was like that. Unique, intense, a long marathon. Because, as he said, you never know when it's the last time. Although you always prayed that it would never be the last time and that he and you will both live to experience another of your hot sessions.

For now, God listened to a sinner like you...

You almost scream as he digs his long fingers into you up to his knuckles. His rings rub against the entrance of your cunt, the even colder than his fingers metal is making you shiver. Benny kisses and nibbles your neck, leaving a trail of hickies from your lips to your collarbone.

His fingers slide in and out, pushing against that sweet spot inside you that makes you scream his name. His rings push through and enter your vagina, and you can see them glistening with your arousal. And it's fucking hot. As hot as Benny's hard manhood pressing against your thigh.

You dig your nails into his neck and moan into his ear as his thumbs is pressing your swollen clit, working with all his might to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.

You bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans and cries of pleasure so everyone in the motel doesn't hear you, but Benny won't have any of that. He kisses you hungrily and pulls his hand away from you completely. You gasp, lifting your hips and seeking his hand, but he doesn't resume his ministrations until a soft moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips.

"Such a good little desprate girl for me. You take my fingers so damn well now, wrapping your tight unused walls around them, and before when you were scandalously empty, you were a nasty little brat. I shouldn't reward you for running away from me, you know, my sweetest?" He mumbles in your ear with his hoarse voice, still refusing you the touch of his sinfully long fingers.

The tears in your eyes fall freely onto the pillow as you try to gather the last remnants of logical thought to somehow prove yourself to him, because you know you won't come if you just grind against him desperately in the hopes that he'll finally give you more.

"Please Benny… I… oh… I won't leave… I won't leave.."

You tangle your hand in his hair and tug on it, to which he lets out a soft growl from his plump lips. In punishment, he gently nips your collarbone, adding another hickey to the collection, as he thankfully pushes his fingers deep into your velvety wet and eager walls again and tries to bring you immense pleasure.

And it doesn't take him very long. A few thrusts of his fingers, kisses scattered across your neck, collarbone, and cleavage, and you're falling apart beneath him. Your brain is a useless mush as you come from the mere ministrations of his fingers and the dirty words he whispers in your ear. You're drunk on Benny, on the feel of his fingers inside you, his weight on you, and the burning marks his lips leave on your skin.

You lick your lips in anticipation for him to strip down so you can get to the main part, but he just flops onto his side next to you, ignoring the obvious hard soreness in his pants, and wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you against his chest.

"I missed it." He whispers, kissing your knuckles. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, but he doesn’t move to taste you on his fingers. He simply places your joined hands on his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

You know this is the closest you'll get to an admission of guilt and an apology from him. So you accept it and gently snuggle into him.

"Good night, Benny." You whisper into his neck. He shivers.

Goosebumps appear on the skin of his neck, but he doesn't move. You just lie there, cuddled up to each other, and he presses a long kiss to the top of your head. You feel fulfilled, satisfied, happy,

He lies under you politely, ignoring his discomfort, and you know that this is some kind of sick punishment for himself. Yet you do nothing to stop it. He has to realise that he can't just take you on his bike and take you to hell knows where. He needs to realise that he can't be such a free spirit anymore if he really wants you. That he can't keep doing the shit he did with the Vandals.

Even if you're happy with how things turned out after he dargged you out of the town.

And when the next day he takes you to Florida and shows you the old family home that he inherited from his deceased father and says that he would love to burn this place down in the past, but now he wants to keep it and renovate it for you if you agree to stay with him as his wife, you know you can't stay mad at him forever. Especially not after he slides one of his rings off his finger and places it securely on yours in a silent promise and understanding between you.

You whether gonna be his wife or gonna smash up his bike, (you haven't decided yet) but in the end you gonna finally make him yours and only yours.

After all, he didn't get you back just for you to leave him again. You will stay with each other until the very end. Even if it would destroy you.

#benny cross x reader #benny cross #the bikeriders #benny the bikeriders #austin butler benny #oneshot #benny cross x y/n #benny x reader #angst #fluff #smut #actually obsessive #fools in love #jealousy #getting back together #exes #exes to lovers #inspired by taylor swift #kind of kidnapping

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nyxvuxoa · 10 months ago

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Austin Butler as Benny Cross ↳ The Bikeriders | dir. Jeff Nichols

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nerdy-novelist017 · 8 months ago

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Denim (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Smut)

Heyyyy, remember when i did that little poll forever ago and the majority of you guys wanted me to turn the ending into smut? Well, here it is 🤗 I just pray nobody who knows me IRL will read this, but i hope all of YOU guys enjoy this! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.1k+

Summary- He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure.

18+ Minors please do not interact!

******

Benny took a long, slow drag of his cigarette as he watched you from his place on the bed bend over to grab your slip dress from the floor. The trail of clothes leading into his bedroom were the result of his desires and fervor manifested by returning home to your sweet smile. After a particularly rough day with some new members joining the Vandals, his frustrations built and threatened to crack his carefully crafted persona of calm, his entire ride back home was filled with nothing but the dirty thoughts he had of bending you over the kitchen counter and releasing his anger. But upon entering his house, his senses were overwhelmed by the smell of something sweet baking in the oven. He found you standing at the kitchen island, adorning a flour-covered apron overtop one of your pretty little sundresses. You held a spatula in one hand, stirring it into the bowl of what Benny could only assume was batter, and the other was holding open a cookbook on the countertop, finger lightly tracing the words as you mouthed the instructions softly.

“Hi, honey!” You greeted him with that smile that just seemed to melt away all his aggressions. “I’m baking a pie for tomorrow. I’ve never tried this recipe so I’m making my failsafe too, just in case.”

You were referring to another Vandals meeting happening tomorrow evening. A sickeningly sweet warmth bloomed in his chest and he knew he couldn’t fuck you there like what he’d planned. No, you were so thoughtful and kind. He wanted to make love to you, to show you that he loved you. That’s what you deserved.

“God, you’re beautiful," he said as he watched the slip fall over your shoulders, gracefully laying over your body like water running over stones, covering your figure down to your mid thigh.

He leaned his upper half against the headboard, one arm propped behind his head, the sheets pulled noncommittally over his bare hips. From the bed, he could see the blush tinge your nose and cheeks. He loved that he still had that effect on you, it filled him with a sense of pride that his words (among other things) could still garner a physical reaction from you.

You grinned at him sheepishly. “That’s what I think about you.”

Benny had never been with a woman that called him beautiful before you. Sure, he’d been complimented many times, but called beautiful? That was something only you have ever told him. You found a lot of things beautiful, constantly pointing out flowers on the side of the highway or sunsets on the horizon. He loved seeing the world through your eyes. Sure, he appreciated the sunsets sometimes or your new dresses, but he only found them beautiful when you were on the back of his bike to enjoy the sunset, only thought the flowers were pretty when you placed them in your hair. Beauty was only a concept when you were involved.

He watched as you began picking up the rest of your clothes, gathering everything in your arms, but then something caught your eye. Discarding the rest of your clothes on the foot of the bed, you bent, giving Benny a generous view of your chest before retrieving the item that gave you pause.

He glanced down at it in your hands. His Vandals jacket. He quirked a brow as your gaze fluttered back up to his, a flirtatious glint in your eye. You turn from him and move to stand in front of the mirror above the desk. He watches intently as you slowly spin the jacket and bring it around behind you, sliding each hand through at a time before shrugging it over your shoulder. It was several sizes too big on you. Your fingertips barely grazed the ends of each sleeve and the hem of the denim covered your butt. You swiped at your hair trapped beneath the collar as you studied yourself in the reflection.

You’re eyes locked with him in the mirror and you smiled. “You reckon I could be a Vandal?”

He nearly groaned at the sight of you, all sweet in your soft satin slip with his rough denim jacket dwarfing your small figure. “Bunny, I reckon you could take over that whole damn club tomorrow if you walked in wearing that.”

Your giggle sent a jolt through his stomach and he felt himself grinning like an idiot as he watched you turn from the mirror and do a spin for him. You were just too damn cute.

“Now, you’re official,” he teased, blowing out a trail of smoke from between his lips, eyes unable to look away from you as you moved back to the bedside.

“Not quite.” You fixed him with a mischievous look as you crawled onto the bed slowly, sliding a leg over his hips so that you were straddling his lap. “I still need something to ride.”

He smudged the rest of his cigarette out in the ashtray before his hands found the soft flesh of your bare thighs. You planted your palms over his chest and the sensation burned straight through to his heart. He leaned up to capture your lips. “I think I have something you could take for a spin.”

He swallowed your moan, hands kneading up to your hips where he helped position you over himself. You had never been the one on top before, and your heart pounded at the intimidating idea. But because Benny always seemed to read your thoughts, he said, “It’s okay, baby. Just go slow.”

Benny’s hands on thighs tightened, helping to guide himself to your entrance and you released a breathy moan of satisfaction when you felt his cock sink into you. He clenched his jaw tightly when you began to move slowly, hesitantly, his rough fingers tracing your soft skin with an almost reverent touch. “Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head momentarily as you rode him.

Though he wanted to remain locked onto you, his eyes couldn’t help but roam over every curve of your beautiful body, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. He marveled at how easily you brought him to his knees, at how you seemed to just control his every thought. When he came home to you standing in the kitchen, so innocent and unassuming, all the day’s frustrations and worries just melted away. You had the power to do that. And now, with you rocking above him, your eyes locked onto his, he felt that very same sensation of awe wash over him again. How did he ever get so lucky?

“You feel so good, Bunny,” he moaned as his head fell back against the pillow, his heart pounding in his ears. “Just–just like that.”

He took one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his face and planting kisses to your palm. With every movement you made, his thoughts spiraled further, his mind becoming hazy. Mine, the word echoed in his head as a fierce and possessive need that both terrified and thrilled him. He had never thought he’d want something so badly in his life, never thought he’d care so much. But here you were, in his bed, in his life, and he was utterly lost in you. Every kiss he pressed to your skin, every touch was a promise – a promise to do anything he could to keep you, to make you happy, to be worthy of you.

At his praise, you felt confidence bubble within you, and you picked up the pace, driven by the need to please him, your hips grinding into his with a friction that sent electricity straight into your core. The sound of your shared breaths, the squeak of the bed springs both filled the room in a sweet symphony that drove you to the very edge.

Your name slipped from his lips in a broken, needy sound that made your heart skip a beat. You could feel him straining beneath you, his muscles taut with desire. You leaned forward, your hair falling into a curtain around his face as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, watching as his eyes darkened with fervor, his control slipping.

His hand slid up your back, beneath the Vandals jacket, pulling you closer, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that made your head spin. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he was starving for you, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that sent waves of heat through your entire body.

And in typical Benny fashion, he couldn’t relinquish control for long. Without breaking the kiss, he rolled you both over, pinning you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress in a way that caused you to squeal lightly. Not of fear, there was never fear with Benny. He broke the kiss, his mouth moving down to your neck as his hand cupped your breast through your thin nightgown.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice clouded by a possessive rasp as his hand gripped the bare flesh of your thigh, positioning it higher onto his own hip. You responded instantly, wrapping yourself tighter against him. “Every inch of you.”

Unable to speak, you nodded, your hands moving up to grip his shoulders as he entered you with deep, powerful thrusts that made you cry out in ecstasy. Benny didn’t hold back – he couldn’t – his movements were rough and demanding as he took you, each plunge sending a shockwave through you, a white blinding sensation behind your eyes. The intensity of it was overwhelming, your senses filled with nothing but him – his touch, his scent, the way he filled you completely.

“Benny, please,” you whimpered, your words almost incoherent as your pleasure built to a peak.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling against your overstimulated flesh as his hand came up to interlock with your own, pinning it beside your head. He groaned, “I’ve got you, Bunny . . . I’ve got you.”

His words were a promise, and they filled you with a warmth that went beyond physicality. And when the wave finally crashed over you, it was all-consuming, your body tightening against his as a cry escaped your lips. Benny wasn’t far behind you, his own release hitting like a storm, and he groaned against your skin, his body shuddering from the force of it. Your vision blurred with euphoria but you grasped onto the way he said your name so softly.

Benny lowered onto his elbows, laying his upper body slack against yours as his labored breaths filled your ringing ears, his heart pounding against your own chest. For a few moments, you both lay there, each coming down off your passionate high, his hand still tightly wrapped around your own. He pressed a kiss against your temple as he whispered, “You’re everything to me, Bunny. Everything.”

You smiled as you brought your hands up to run through his hair. Benny rarely ever expressed his love in words. I love you, was not an expression he often used. Instead, he found other ways to emphasize his affections. They never ceased to fill you with a sense of belonging that you’ve never felt before.

As the heat began to cool between you, he eventually pulled out, leaning up onto his elbows again, to gaze down at you with a lazy smile playing on his face. He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in a gentle caress. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, Bunny.”

You shot him a teasing grin. “Maybe I have some idea.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before he rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you along with him so that you were draped across his chest. You rested your head there, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat as your breathing slowed.

After a few moments, Benny spoke up again, his low voice cutting through the comfortable silence. “How about we make a deal?”

You tilted your head up at him, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of a deal?”

His hand slipped beneath the denim jacket again to trace circles along your back as he mused, “Whenever you’re feelin’ low or like you’re not enough . . . you come to me, and I’ll remind you how wrong you are.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest at his words. He knew you struggled with confidence and to hear him wanting to actively help you in whatever way he could . . . well, it just made you love him all that much more. It was impossible not to fall in love with him every day when he said such things to you, when he made you feel like the most precious thing in his world. “And what about you? What if you need reminding?”

His eyes softened as they fluttered over your features. “Then I’ll come to you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like more than I am.”

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet, sealing the promise. “Deal.”

You pulled back, a hint of mischief gleaming in your eyes, and you asked, “Do I have to wear the jacket though?”

He grinned, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you into him even closer. “Definitely.”

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @imusicaddict @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @mrsalwayswrite

#brb gonna go take a cold shower now #or jump off a cliff #either one works #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #austin butler fandom #imagine #smut #x reader #one shot #fluff

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supernotnatural2005 · 2 months ago

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The Arrangement Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader AU

Summary: Dean Winchester and Y/N Singer have been best friends since childhood—until one dream changes everything. After a drunken mishap and the resurface of feelings buried, the line of friendship is crossed. The solution? The Arrangement. However, as their story unfolds, lines blur, jealousy flares, and before long, they’re forced to face the truth—maybe “the one” has been beside them all along.

Set in the year 2005 (for reference)

AN: I'm too excited, I have to share the news!!! This story has been a WIP for a while now. It's something I have really enjoyed writing and would love to share with you all. So join me on a thrilling ride of all of our favourite tropes in fan-fiction of love, angst, smut, heartbreak and everything else 😘

Main Masterlist

Chapters containing adult themes/smut (18+ ONLY) will contain **

Will be updated every Friday, starting from this week.

Chapter One

Chapter Two **

Chapter Three **

Chapter Four

Chapter Five **

Chapter Six **

Chapter Seven **

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten (Finale/Epilogue)**

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like and their respective series 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77

#The arrangement masterlist #supernatural #Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #spn #spn fanfic #spn imagine #sam winchester #ellen harvelle #jo harvelle #bobby singer #benny lafitte #gabriel spn #castiel #dean winchester au

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voxmortuus · 9 months ago

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☆ { crying } because of how good it feels

with benny perhaps????😊😊 thank u!

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Benny Cross x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Bikeriders ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 378 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Crying Reader (because it felt so good) | Fluffy Ben | Tender Moments | Smut has been implied | Speaking of Mess between your legs | Benny playing with the mess between your legs | Hint to round two | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... It's short, sweet, and to the point, but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @carnevol ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

Granted you both finished, he needs you to communciate, he needs that reassurance that you are in fact okay. Cupping your face in his hands, he searches your face. Planting small kisses on your lips, he looks into your eyes, searching the beautiful hues of color that spread across your iris. Watching you carefully, he took in a deep breath as he pulled from between your folds and moves to lay beside you.

"Talk to me... what's going on?" He asked you, his voice husky, low, and full of love and caring.

"Nothing's going on, honestly. It felt good..." you stated.

"Are you sure? Crying, that's never happened... not all the time anyway." he stated with a slight chuckle.

"No.. no baby, honest, it felt really good, it's just this weird thing that happens to me at times. I promise you didn't do anything wrong." you reassure.

"So, lemme get this straight. You're crying because what I did felt good? You didn't want me to stop? I mean, yeah, there's a fuck of a mess between your legs, but, I mean... I can do it again... if you want." he smirked.

You chuckled looking over him. Leaning you press your forehead against his and nod. He chuckled softly, maybe he liked when you cried, but he wasn't all too sure himself, but knowing it wasn't bad, he wasn't going to worry about it too much, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

His hand slips between your legs again, feeling that mess, he smirked, his lips hovering above yours, he ran his nose along yours as his fingers moved over your opening, that slick stickyness between your legs was more than enough to cause you to quiver and shake. Biting your lip as he started to stimulate your clit again. You tremble against him softly. Playing with your mess he smirked, you feel as he scoops the mess, using it as a sense of lube for his own cock as he gets between your legs and looks down at you, and searches your face.

"You ready?" he asked you.

You nod, eager, and ready for round two. Will you cry again? Probably, but it was for a good reason. Biting your lip, you're anticipating this feeling.

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austinbutlerslovers · 7 months ago

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Benny Cross The Bikeriders Fantasy Part 5

Label Mature 18+

One shot/ Story Continuation

Chapter 5 Broken Promises

🔗 chapter 1 🔗 chapter 2 🔗 chapter 3 🔗 chapter 4

Summary When Benny is beaten to near death you tend and care for him night and day. The confident and strong man you once knew now seems lost forever in the unsure and frail Benny leaving you to put all the pieces back together.

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Benny injured kink •fingering you while he’s hurt •oral on Benny for ego• riding Benny while he’s in pain • size kink• clit play • nipple play •Benny pushing his limits with sex• Benny claiming you • breeding kink • multiple orgasms •multiple creampies • aftercare

📖 Proof reader @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia

Heavily Based on the Bikeriders Movie 🩸 Mentions of Blood (Benny beaten severely)

🏍️ Inspo: Anonymous Requests Combined • Benny injured weak & helpless • Benny needing constant care/ depending on you entirely •Benny whimpering and begging •Oral on Benny to make him feel better •Sex with Benny while he’s hurt to make him feel better •Benny pushing his limits during sex while while injured

Broken Promises

Benny drives his bike aimlessly, the roar of the engine and the rush of wind barely dulling the ache in his chest. There’s no plan, just the need to escape the storm of regret swirling inside him. He fucked up—like he always does. The thought gnaws at him, relentless and cruel. You’ll leave him, he’s sure of it, and he’ll be nothing more than a fleeting mistake in your otherwise perfect life.

He shakes the thought away, trying to convince himself that you love him, that you have to be completely in love with him. But deep down, he knows he’s messed up in the worst possible way.

He exposed you to the side of him that’s driven others away, and what’s worse is the realization that you deserve better—someone with a respectable life, someone who could offer you stability, not a rough-edged fucked up biker like him.

Benny’s mind races, but he doesn’t want to think anymore. He just wants to drink, to drown out the sorrows that threaten to swallow him whole. He’s been riding aimlessly for so long that he doesn’t even know where he is.

He finally pulls up to an unfamiliar bar and dismounts his bike, his legs heavy, the pain from the fight at the rally taking its toll.

He glances down at the bandage on his hand the pain of it dull compared to the hurt in his chest.

You would’ve taken him to the hospital gotten him fixed him up, cared for him tenderly. But he’s sure that’s over now. He looks at his wedding band, the images of you smiling radiantly in your wedding dress flash through his mind, the happiest day of his life. Tears almost well in his eyes but he blinks them back he doesn’t deserve you he knows it he has to let you go.

He slams the bar door open, the force of it matching the turmoil coursing inside him.

“Whiskey and a beer, and when I’m done, keep em coming,” he orders at the bartender, who nods silently.

Benny slumps down onto a stool, once settled, he quickly downs the whiskey, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction, and chases it with a cold beer that does little to quench the fire in his gut.

As the bartender goes to refill his drink, two men approach. The scent of sweat and stale beer hits Benny’s nose as one of them snarls, “Hey, shithead, you can’t wear that jacket in here.”

Benny barely glances at them, but the second man steps closer, his voice louder, more aggressive. “Hey, shithead, you hear my brother? You can’t wear that jacket.”

Benny’s eyes narrow as he looks at one, then the other. He’s itching for a fight, and if proving his loyalty to the club will numb the ache in his heart, he’s ready. Anything to take his mind off you. His blood pressure rises as he calmly sets his glass down. “You’d have to kill me to get this jacket off,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

Without warning, Benny feels a sharp, heavy blow to his back, a cheap shot that knocks him forward, sending pain shooting through his spine as he sees the broken wood from the barstool that was used.

He stumbles from his seat with the breath forced from his lungs, kneeling on the floor. Before he can recover, another vicious kick slams into his stomach. The force of it bends him double, his insides twisting in agony.

“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to suck in air, but there’s no time. A third kick lands hard against his ribs, a sickening crack reverberating through his body. The pain is blinding, his vision blurring as he goes down, his cheek scraping against the grimy floor. The scent of sweat, beer, and blood fills his nostrils, mingling with the sharp, metallic taste in his mouth.

He tries to crawl, his blood soaked palm slipping against the wooden floor, but the two brothers aren’t done. Benny feels a brutal kick connect with his side, the impact sending him sprawling against the barstools. His body spasms as he spits up blood, the taste of copper thick on his tongue.

The bar is spinning around him, the dim lights flickering as his head throbs in time with his heartbeat. The next thing he knows, rough hands are gripping his jacket, lifting him only to be thrown toward the front door. He crashes to the pavement outside with a bone jarring thud, the breath knocked out of him again.

“He won’t stay down!” one shouts in disbelief. Before he can even think to defend himself, another boot kicks into his face. The pain is explosive, a white hot flash that leaves his vision swimming. He knows they’ll kill him if this keeps up, they’ve gone too far.

Benny’s pushes himself up, only to collapse again under the crushing weight of his injuries. Blood drips from his mouth as he struggles once more, his body trembling with the effort. This time he manages to get one knee under him.

“He’s getting back up!” one of them shouts in frustration as he looms over Benny.

“I’ll keep him down“ the other snarls off to get something to maim him with. The taste of blood is sharp on Bennys tongue, his vision wavering with the strain to stay conscious.

Desperation surges through him, adrenaline cutting through the haze of pain. Bennys hand scrambles to his boot, fingers wrapping around the handle of the knife hidden there.

With a wild burst of energy, Benny pushes himself to his feet and slashes out, the blade slicing across the man’s face in front of him. The man screams in agony, clutching at his bloodied cheek.

“Oh shit, Henry!” the other man yells, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of his brothers mangled face.

But that horror quickly twists into fury. His gaze locks onto Benny with murderous intent, and he grabs a nearby shovel, his knuckles whitening around the handle as he barrels forward.

Benny finally feels a surge of triumph grinning as the man wails in agony clutching his blood streaked face. The small victory doesn’t last long. The second man crashes something heavy against the back of his skull.

The impact rings through Bennys head, disorienting him, and he drops to his knees, the world spinning violently as he slips to the ground clutching his head wet with fresh blood. “This’ll keep him down!,” he hears the man sneer.

Before Benny can react, the spade of a shovel sharply snaps through his ankle, the bones crunching beneath the weight. The pain is excruciating, a bright, searing agony that radiates up his leg as he groans seething through gritted teeth. it’s the final blow for his battered body as he begins losing consciousness.

The last thing he feels is the cold, hard pavement beneath him and the taste of blood in his mouth with all the pain of his injuries. Just before the darkness claims him, fleeting thoughts of you cross his mind, your smile, your touch, your voice but it’s all too late. The world fades to black, and his tormenting pain finally recedes into nothingness.

Decisions

You burst through the hospital doors, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps. Fear gnawing at your insides, pushing you forward. Your eyes dart frantically across the lobby until they land on a group of bikers huddled together, faces grim. Spotting Corky you rush over, your voice cracking as you blurt out, “Where’s Benny!?!”

Corky exchanges a glance with Wahoo, who sighs heavily. “They won’t let us in, only family,” Corky says reluctantly.

Without a second thought, you practically sprint to the front desk, the words spilling out in a frantic rush. “I’m Mrs. Cross—I’m here for my husband, Benny Cross!” you almost shout, your voice trembling and rising, barely holding back the storm of panic threatening to overwhelm you.

The receptionist behind the desk gives you a sympathetic nod and quickly checks you in.

Within minutes, a nurse leads you down a long, sterile hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering above as you pass. Your hands instinctively cling to your arms, as if trying to physically hold yourself together.

The dread sits like a heavy weight in your chest, tightening with each step, but there’s also a fragile hint of relief—Benny is stable, he’s alive.

When you finally reach Benny’s hospital room, the nurse pulls his clipboard from the wall and begins reading his list of injuries, her voice low and clinical.

“Mrs. Cross, when your husband was brought in, he was severely attacked. He suffered fractured ribs, a fractured orbital socket, internal bleeding, blunt force trauma to the head resulting in a concussion, and the most pressing of his injuries—a severed Achilles tendon with a broken talus bone in his right ankle due to blunt force trauma. The injury is so severe that the surgeons are discussing the possibility of amputation.”

Her words hit you like a sledgehammer. Your breath catches, and a sharp pain stabs through your chest as you clutch the wall for support. The hallway spins, nausea threatening to overwhelm you, but you force yourself to stay upright. You can’t afford to be weak, not now.

The nurse continues, her voice gentler as she sees the look of shock and devastation across your face, as you struggle to process the gravity of the situation.

“Your husband is on a heavy medication for the pain now and has been treated for his injuries. The surgeon will discuss the options with you both regarding how you would like to proceed with his amputation in the morning.”

You nod, barely registering her words, your focus solely on the door as she pushes it open for you. With a deep breath, you gather your strength and step inside.

The room is dimly lit, the only sounds the steady beeping of monitors and the soft hum of medial machinery. Your eyes fall on Benny, lying motionless in the hospital bed.

His once strong, commanding presence now looks so fragile, covered in bruises and bandages. His face, usually so ruggedly handsome, is almost unrecognizable swollen and discolored under his right eye. His right leg is encased in a heavy white cast, elevated slightly above the bed, and you can see the bulk of bandages peeking out from under the sheets.

He looks so vulnerable, so different from the man who always seemed indestructible. The sight of him like this breaks your heart all over again.

You approach him slowly, your footsteps silent on the cold, tiled floor. As you get closer, Benny stirs, his eyes fluttering open. When he sees you, a flicker of something crosses his face relief, happiness, maybe even disbelief. He weakly smiles, twisted by pain.

“Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

He shivers, his battered body tensing as he tries to shift, to reach for you. But the pain is too much, and he winces, his breath hitching in his throat. Seeing him like this, struggling even to move, brings tears to your eyes, but you push them back. He needs your strength now, not your tears.

Carefully, you search for a place to touch him, a spot not covered by bruises or bandages. Finally, you find a small patch of uninjured skin on his arm and gently place your hand there, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his skin.

He closes his eyes in relief as he exhales shuddering a breath. “I thought… I thought you wouldn’t come,” he rasps, his voice hoarse from pain and medication.

“Of course I came,” you reply, your voice heavy with emotion. “I’m here, Benny. I’m not going anywhere.”

Benny’s eyes open again, and he looks up at you with a mix of guilt and gratitude. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I fucked up….I let you down …and I left you.” He chokes out.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. “No, Benny. You didn’t let me down. You’ve never let me down, and Im still right here for you.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes searching, desperate to believe your words. Then, slowly, he reaches up with his good hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your own, and despite everything, it gives you comfort.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, his eyes closing as exhaustion takes over.

“You deserve more than you think Benny,” you reply softly, your voice barely a whisper.

As the minutes pass, Benny drifts in and out of consciousness, the pain and medication pulling him under. You stay by his side, holding his hand, careful not to disturb the IV line or the bandages. You watch over him, your heart aching with love and worry.

Morning breaks with a muted glow through the hospital blinds, casting long shadows across the sterile room. You haven’t slept a wink, your eyes never leaving Benny as he lay beside you, his face pale and drawn with pain. You’ve spent the night doting on him and holding his hand, determined to be there for him, no matter what comes.

A gentle knock on the door draws your attention. You stiffen, knowing the doctor’s visit will bring the news he’s not ready to hear. Benny is sitting propped up with the help of pillows, his eyes closed as he rests against the headboard still groggy from the medication and pain. You squeeze his hand a little tighter to wake him as the doctor enters.

The doctor exchanges morning greetings as he walks over to Benny’s bedside, flipping through his medical chart in hand, his expression solemn. He takes a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before speaking in a low, steady voice.

“Mr. Cross, I’m afraid the injury to your ankle is extremely severe. The spade of a shovel penetrated deeply, causing extensive damage to your Achilles tendon and the surrounding soft tissue fracturing your tibia and breaking the talus bone. The prognosis for functional recovery is poor, walking without significant assistance or support will be highly unlikely. After assessing all available options, the only viable course of action is to proceed with a below knee amputation.”

The words hit Benny like a physical blow. You feel his entire body tense beside you. His eyes widen in shock, disbelief washing over his face.

The doctor continues, explaining the necessity, the risks, the slim chances of saving the foot, but Benny’s face is frozen in that same look of shock.

Bennys lips part slightly, as if trying to form words, but nothing comes out. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable and utterly devastated. This man, who has faced down danger more times than you can count, is now staring down a future he never imagined possible.

When the doctor finally finishes, he gives you both a moment, quietly excusing himself to let you process the news. The room falls into a heavy silence. You’re still holding Benny’s hand, but he’s not gripping back, his eyes distant, staring at a point far beyond the hospital walls.

You watch as the reality of what he just heard begins to sink in. His strong, handsome face starts to crumble. Tears well up in his eyes, and before you know it, they spill over, down his cheeks. The sight of Benny crying, breaks something inside you. He’s never cried, not in front of you, not ever and it’s as if the weight of the entire world has come crashing down on him in this single, moment.

He lowers his head, unable to look at you, his shoulders trembling as he begins to sob covering his face. Not just a tear or two, but deep, gut wrenching sobs that shake his entire body. You can’t bear it and move closer sitting beside him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you can.

You stroke his hair avoiding the bandage there and hold him close to your chest as his fingertips weakly cling to your dress.

Minutes pass before the sobs start to subside, leaving Benny breathless and shattered. His face is streaked with tears, his eyes red rimmed and haunted. Finally in a voice that’s barely a whisper,he looks you in the eyes as he pleads, “Please… don’t let them take my foot off”

You meet his gaze, your heart breaking all over again as you see the depth of despair in those blue eyes, the same eyes that have always been so strong. You gently caress his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips as he struggles to say more. Finally, he chokes out what he’s really been dreading, “If they take my foot off I can’t ride any more,” he shudders, his words heavy with sorrow and fear.

His confession surprises you, the full weight of his words sinking in you as you hold him close. Benny’s loyalty to the club runs so deep that the thought of losing his brotherhood is more terrifying to him than the loss of his own limb. Above all else, Benny is a Vandal, and without that, he fears he will lose himself entirely.

Burn it down

Word spreads like wildfire through town, whispers and rumors reaching every corner until they finally land at the Vandals’ clubhouse where everyone gathered after the rally. The air inside is thick with smoke and tension, the usual hum of conversation hushed as the members sense something brewing beneath the surface.

Cal is the first to get the call. The landline phone on the wall rings sharply, cutting through the heavy silence. He picks it up, his expression growing darker as Corky’s voice crackles through the receiver from the hospital. The news hits him like a punch to the gut. Benny had been jumped by members of a rival gang at a bar in Lakeside. The beating was so severe that they nearly severed his foot, leaving him in a hospital bed, fighting to keep his leg.

Cal’s hand tightens around the phone, his knuckles going white as he listens to the details. His eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering there as the full weight of the situation settles in. When the call ends, he slams the phone down, the sound echoing through the clubhouse, catching the attention of everyone around.

Without a word, Cal strides across the room to where Johnny is sitting, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. Cal leans in close, his voice low and laced with a dangerous edge as he whispers the confirmation.

Johnny’s face hardens immediately, his eyes darken, with a burning rage that simmers just beneath the surface his jaw tightening as he absorbs the full weight of the news. In his chest, he knows he’ll never let this go. One of his own was hurt, and someone was going to pay dearly for it.

Without a second thought, Johnny gathers the Vandals. There’s no need for words they can see the fury in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches, the barely restrained violence in his every movement. They mount their bikes, the roar of engines filling the air as they ride with purpose, their destination clear.

The bar comes into view, a building that now holds the weight of their wrath. The Vandals pull up in front, engines roaring as they line the street, the deafening sound echoing through the air. The bikers stay mounted, revving their engines menacingly, a warning to anyone inside that trouble has arrived.

Johnny dismounts first, his eyes narrowing as he strides toward the entrance, Cal and Brusy flanking him like shadows. The door swings open, and the atmosphere inside shifts immediately. The tension thickens, the air heavy with the unspoken threat as the patrons turn to see who just walked in. Everyone can feel the danger that now hangs over the room, knowing that the men standing in the doorway have come for retribution.

Johnny’s gaze sweeps the room before locking onto the bartender. His glare is enough to freeze the man in place. “I don’t want any trouble here,” the bartender stammers, fully aware of the reason for this unexpected visit.

Johnny pauses, already knowing exactly how he wants to exact revenge for Benny, as he steps closer to the bartender.

“Young kid got beat up in here real bad,” Johnny begins, his voice low and menacing, carrying the unmistakable promise of violence.

“I need you to tell me who did it. Write the names down, tell me where they live, and I’ll let you leave.”

The bartender, eyes wide with fear, doesn’t hesitate. He grabs a piece of paper and a pencil with shaking hands, scribbling down the names as quickly as he can. The presence of Johnny and the Vandals is overwhelming. When he finishes, he hands the paper over, his hand trembling.

Johnny takes it, glances at the names, then hands the paper to Cal. “Send a few guys, make sure they don’t walk again,” Johnny orders, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Cal exits the bar on his mission of retribution for Benny and gives the signal for the Vandals to head inside.

As the Vandals enter the bar and surround Johnny, their sheer presence amplifies the already building tension in the establishment. Sensing whats next the patrons begin to flee.

Johnny lights a cigarette, the flame flickering as he inhales deeply, the smoke curling around him.

“You can leave,” Johnny says to the bartender, his voice calm but filled with menace.

Desperate to save his livelihood, the bartender asks, “What about my bar?”

Johnny doesn’t even glance at the bartender, his gaze distant as he exhales a cloud of smoke. “Burn it down,” he orders to the Vandals coldly, flicking the lit match onto the floor.

The bartender barely has time to react before the Vandals spring into action. They trash the bar with ruthless efficiency, smashing tables, shattering glasses, and ripping bottles from the shelves. Liquor spills everywhere, creating a flammable torrent that they quickly ignite, setting the entire place ablaze.

Johnny, Cal, and the others step outside, lining the street as the flames take hold. The fire spreads quickly, its flickering light painting the night sky in ominous shades of orange and red. The heat intensifies, and the sound of crackling wood and shattering glass fills the air as the bar is consumed by the roaring blaze.

Johnny stands at the front, his expression unreadable as he watches the building burn. The flames dancing in his eyes, reflecting the rage that still simmers within him.

To his left, he notices the fire department arriving, their lights flashing. To his right, the police pull up, their cars blocking off the street. Yet, both the fire department and the police take no action as the building is consumed by the fire ignited by the Vandals.

Brusy, standing beside Johnny, glances nervously between the two groups. “Why aren’t they doing anything?” he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Johnny smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up as he watches the flames devour the building. He doesn’t take his eyes off the blaze as he replies, -“Because they’re scared.”

The fire rages on until the bar is reduced to nothing more than a pile of smoldering rubble. Johnny knows that the message has been sent. This is what happens when you mess with the Vandals. This is what happens when you hurt one of his own.

Long Road

When Benny is finally discharged from the hospital, he’s a shadow of the man you once knew. The powerful, confident presence he always carried has been stripped away, replaced by a hollow shell of uncertainty and pain.

His eyes, once so full of life and defiance, are now dim, the spark of confidence deadened by the trauma of his injuries. Benny struggles to navigate the world on crutches. His right leg remains, encased in a heavy cast with no promise that he’ll ever walk normally again. Each step up the stairs a painful reminder of how much life has changed for him.

You’ve already prepared the downstairs guest bedroom, anticipating that the stairs would be too much for him to handle. The room is decorated in deep, soothing shades of blue, with a large window offering a view of the garden.

All his clothing and medications are neatly arranged, and you’ve even brought a television into the space, knowing how much he loves to lose himself in movies and shows.

You wanted to create a space where Benny could feel comfortable, even if everything else in his life feels like it’s falling apart.

At first, Benny tries to hold onto some semblance of independence, but little by little, you watch as his dignity is stripped away. He can barely navigate the house without help, and you find yourself taking on the role of caregiver, administering his medications, changing his bandages, preparing his meals and changing the linens on his bed.

You help him every time he’s too weak to manage on his own, and each time you do, you see the shame flicker in his eyes.

When you dress him in the mornings he doesn’t even look you. With his body so tender and weak he does his best to pull his body through his clothing but always turns away in shame once you fully dress him, feeling unable to face you.

The hardest moments come when it’s time to bathe him. The once proud, strong man who could have easily overpowered you in the shower, now stands in silence, his foot propped on chair to keep his cast out. He watches you with a mixture of gratitude and deep, aching sadness as you carefully clean his body, avoiding the tender spots and bruises.

“You don’t have to do this,” Benny mutters one evening, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. His head hangs low, his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding your eyes.

“Benny, I want to,” you reply gently, wringing out a washcloth and carefully wiping down his arms. “You know I’m here for you, no matter what.”you warmly smile.

He swallows hard, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” he says, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Not like this… not like some goddamn invalid.”

You pause, your heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his words. “You’re still you, Benny,” you say softly, trying to meet his eyes. “This doesn’t change that. You’ll get through this, and I’ll be right here with you.”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes filled with a pain that’s deeper than any physical wound. “But what if I can’t?” he whispers, the fear and self-doubt he’s been hiding finally spilling out. “What if this is all that’s left of me?”

You reach out, taking his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. “We’ll face it together, Benny you’re not alone.”

Benny closes his eyes, his jaw clenched feeling his emotions they are inescapable. The strong, invincible man he used to be seems like a distant memory now, replaced by someone who’s been forced to confront his own fragility. And yet, even in his weakness, you see the man you fell in love with, the one who’s willing to fight, even if he doesn’t believe in himself anymore.

When the shower is over your dry his hair and body, wrapping the towel snugly around his waist. You help him out offering your hand as he struggles to step. The flickering memory of how powerful he used to be, how he used to pull you close, lifting you off your feet, flashes through your mind. Now, he’s unsteady, relying on your strength to make it back to bed.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as you guide him to the bed, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and sorrow.

You smile at him feeling a sense of comfort knowing how much he needs you. “I’m going to take good care of you Benny.” you promise him.

He doesn’t respond, just nods weakly, his head hanging low. You gently remove his towel and his hands rest on your shoulders for support as he carefully lifts his good leg stepping into his pajama pants. His other leg, encased in cast remains stationary. You kneel lower and guide the fabric over his foot, maneuvering it gently around the cast, ensuring not to jar it.

Benny bears most of his weight on his good leg, trying to keep his balance as you inch the pants up, past his thighs, and finally over his hips. His muscles tense with the effort, and you can see the strain in his expression as he tries to suppress the discomfort.

As you reach for his white tee, your eyes linger on the bruises expanding across his chiseled physique. The once smooth, unblemished skin is now a patchwork of deep purples, sickly yellows, and angry reds, the marks of his brutal attack etched deeply into his flesh. The bruises that spread across his ribs and abs are the darkest and most menacing you’ve ever seen.

You pull the shirt over his head, and as he lifts his arms, he winces, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. The severe pain is evident in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that he tries to hide, but it’s there, unmistakable.

The simple task of bathing and dressing is exhausting, and he lowers himself onto the bed ready to rest. You pull the covers over him, smoothing them down gently, and sit beside him, running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re still my Benny,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Nothing’s going to change that.”

For a moment, he closes his eyes, letting himself believe you, letting himself hope. But the road ahead is long, and you both know it.

Days turn into weeks and the independence Benny once cherished seems like a distant memory now replaced by the reality of his current limitations. But slowly, very slowly, there are small signs of progress.

As the bruises gradually fade, little by little he begins to regain strength in his movements. With each task he manages to do on his own, a flicker of determination returns to his eyes. The Benny you know is still there, fighting to reclaim his life, one small victory at a time.

One afternoon when he’s feeling able, you take him for a walk in the garden. The sun is warm on your skin, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and the scent of blooming flowers fills the air. You hold his arm, guiding him carefully with his crutch along the stone path. His steps are cautious, but he’s moving, and that alone fills you with hope.

As you walk, Benny’s eyes scan the garden and his gaze falls on a patch of overgrown weeds, beginning to overtake the roses. You can see the frustration flash in his eyes. In the past, he would’ve bent down and yanked those weeds out without a second thought, his strong hands making quick work of the task. But now, he just stands there, his hand tightening on your arm.

You see the pain in his expression, the way his jaw tightens, and you reach up to lovingly touch his face, whispering softly, “Soon enough, Benny.” You smile, trying to reassure him, but his gaze remains fixed on the task he can no longer fulfill.

You gently pull him close, resting your head against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent comforting and uniquely him.

You run your hand softly down his arm, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. For a brief moment, he looks down at you, his eyes meeting yours and catching the warmth in your gaze. But then he quickly looks away, his eyes growing distant again.

Your heart sinks, aching for the intimacy you’ve lost. You miss the way he used to hold you, the way his hands would roam your body, claiming you with a passion that left you breathless. Now, his touches are faint and suppressed as if that piece of him is missing.

Still, you cling to the small signs of his returning strength, feeling a thrill each time he manages something on his own. But the distance between you remains, a silent barrier that grows with each passing day.

At night, he sleeps with his back to you, the warmth of his body just out of reach, and you lie there, staring at the ceiling as you have for weeks, yearning for the connection you once had.

Your mind often drifts to those intimate moments in the dark, when his body would press against yours, his breath warm and reassuring against your neck. You remember the way his hands would roam over your skin, tracing every curve of your body seeking you out with a need that matched his own. His kiss, once so erotic and all consuming, would leave you breathless.

Even now, with him only inches away, lying with his back to you, those memories stir something deep within. Your breathing becomes unsteady, your heart racing as the desire forms, the familiar ache building with every thought of how he used to take you.

Without thinking, you suddenly reach out toward him, your hand hovering just above the space between you. The temptation to touch him is almost overwhelming. But then you notice the unevenness in his breathing, labored as he sleeps in pain.

You know all too well how damaged he is, barely able to move without wincing, and the thought makes you pause. The urge to touch him is strong, but the memory of his pain holds you back.

You remind yourself that he needs rest, not another reminder of what he can’t fully engage in right now. With a deep breath, you pull your hand back, feeling the ache of unfulfilled desire settle in your chest.

Whimpers

The next evening, as you prepare to bathe him, Benny catches your hand. “I can do it,” he insists, his voice firmer and there’s a look in his eyes that you haven’t seen in a long time. You hesitate, unsure whether to push back or let him try.

You nod slowly, watching as he stands inside the tub, his knee bent to keep his casted foot elevated on the chair placed just beside it. He’s determined to prove something, to you, and to himself. You know you should leave him to it, give him the privacy he needs, but something keeps you there, lingering just out of sight and you slowly realize you want to do more than just care for him.

Benny begins to wash himself, his movements slow and deliberate, the warm water cascading over his body, highlighting every ridge and curve of his muscular frame.

His broad shoulders, marked by dark bruises of purple and yellow, glisten under the light, the water tracing the powerful lines of his torso.

As he runs the cloth over his chest, the defined ridges of his abs become more pronounced, slick and firm beneath the sparse bruising.

His strong arms, glisten with water, his biceps and triceps flexing slightly as he carefully cleans around the tender areas. The water flows over his skin, accentuating every hard line of his muscles, making his body look both powerful and vulnerable in its raw strength and beauty.

Your breath catches as you watch him, a rush of arousal flooding through you making you quickly turn away, trying to suppress the heat rising within.

The memories of how powerful he used to be in bed flood your mind, the way he would take control, leaving you weak and trembling beneath him. The feel of his mouth on you, the way his hands would explore every inch of your body. You squeeze your knees together, your breaths coming faster unable to suppress your overwhelming arousal.

“Hey,” Benny’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn back to see him struggling to reach the towel. “Can you…?”

You’re at his side in an instant, handing him the towel. Once he’s dried off he wraps the towel around his waist and you help him to the sink.

He stands on his own, bearing more weight on his good leg while holding the counter’s edge. You watch as he brushes his teeth, the mundane task somehow taking on a new significance.

You join him, the two of you side by side, as you spit and rinse. He leans down to wash his face and you reach out, placing your hand soothingly on his back. You can feel the muscles flexing beneath his skin, still strong despite everything else, and you trail your fingers along his spine, lingering longer than you should.

When he dries his face and stands up, you both look at each other in the mirror. Benny’s hair is slicked back, still damp from the shower, and though his tan skin has paled from weeks spent indoors, he’s still so handsome that takes your breath away. The sharp lines of his face are softened by exhaustion, but there’s a ruggedness to him that you’ve always loved.

“You look very handsome, Benny,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turns to you, and you stare at each other in the intimate space. The words he wants to say make his breath catch in his chest as if the thought of speaking them aloud is too much to bear.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty as he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly. He places it gently on your chest, his thumb lightly tracing over your skin in with a reverent touch, and before you can reach out to touch him, he lowers his eyes and pulls his hand away, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand.

The brief contact leaves you aching for him, a deep all consuming longing settles in your chest. When Benny reaches out to you again, your heart flutters, hope surging through you. But his voice soft and filled with hesitation as he breaks the silence. “Can you help me to bed?”

For a moment, dismay flickers through you, quickly replaced by a wave of guilt as you hear the tenderness in his request.

You push your physical thoughts of desire aside understanding how wounded he is and gently take his arm, guiding him with care toward the bed.

His weight bears heavily on you, the strain in his muscles evident as he struggles to maintain his balance.

He places one hand on the nightstand for balance as you hand him his soft pajama pants and a thin white undershirt. You watch for a moment as he pulls them on with slow, deliberate movements. A small smile tugs at your lips, seeing that he doesn’t need your help this time. Satisfied, you turn and head to the dresser, quickly slipping into your silk nightie.

You return to his side, carefully picking up each vial of his medications from the nightstand and dispensing the correct dosages into your palm.

Once he’s dressed, you bring him a glass of water, holding it steady as he takes his pills. You watch him swallow them down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drains the glass. There’s a quiet intimacy in the moment, a routine you’ve fallen into, yet an aching distance lingers between you, a gap you can’t quite bridge.

Once he’s finally settled on his side with the covers pulled up to his waist, you climb into bed beside him, reaching over to click off the light.

As you’ve done all month, you lie back, staring at the ceiling. The guest bedroom is directly next to the garden, so you can watch the shadows of the trees sway above you. Their branches move gently in the night breeze, creating a dance of light and darkness across the ceiling.

The room is filled with the soft swaying of leaves outside, a sound that usually calms you, but tonight it only amplifies your desire for Benny.

You glance over at him, his back turned to you, his body tense even in the darkness. Your heart aches as you reach out, and this time your hand hesitantly touches his shoulder. His skin is warm beneath your fingers tips, his muscles tight and tense.

He doesn’t turn to face you, but his voice breaks the silence, low and heavy with an emotion you can’t quite recognize. “I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he whispers, his words so soft they almost disappear into the air.

You keep your hand on his shoulder, feeling the conflict within him, the war between his pride and his vulnerability. You know what you’re about to do is impulsive, but you can’t stop yourself. The need to reconnect with him, to feel that intimacy again, the thought is overwhelming. Slowly, you slide closer, turning and wrapping your arms around him from behind.

You press a soft kiss to Bennys neck and his body tenses at your touch, his breath catching in his throat. “…Baby...” Benny whispers, his voice shaky, filled with uncertainty and apprehension.

“Shh,” you whisper softly, pressing your lips to the back of his neck again feeling the slight tremor that runs through him “Let me take care of you Benny.”

Your hand moves down, sliding beneath his waistband, your fingers brushing against his warm skin as you reach between his legs. You find his thick shaft, soft and unresponsive gently curling your hand around it. As you begin to stroke him softly, his hand suddenly rests on top of yours, stopping you.

“I can’t..” he whispers, his voice breaking, the words filled with so much pain and defeat that it tears at your heart. You can almost hear his pride shatter, the sound of it reverberating in the stillness of the room.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper softly feeling the depth of his anguish. You withdraw your hand, placing it instead on his back, rubbing soothing circles over his tight muscles, trying to comfort him the only way you can. “It’s alright, Benny. We don’t have to do anything. I’m here for you, no matter what.” You say reassuringly.

Benny doesn’t respond, but you can feel how he shakes slightly with each breath. The vulnerability he’s showing is both heartbreaking and precious, a side of him he’s never allowed anyone else to see.

You continue to rub his back, your touch gentle and soothing gradually feeling the tension in his muscles begin to ease under your hand as his breathing starts to slow.

The warmth of his skin under your fingertips and the scent of him so close stir something deep within you, the familiar ache forming involuntarily between your legs.

You quickly lay back, squeezing your thighs together, a soft sigh escaping your lips trying to calm yourself. But in the heat of the moment, driven by impulse, your fingers slip over the silk of your nightie and reach into the lace of your panties.

You find your aching clit, swollen and sensitive, and begin to circle it with a feather light touch. Each gentle stroke sends waves of pleasure through you, blending with the soothing caress of Benny’s back.

Your breaths grow rapid, heart pounding as you chase the edge of release, your fingers dancing over your sensitive skin. The weight of your emotional turmoil heightening your desire, leaving you craving the sweet relief of climax.

You keep your movements soft and quiet, not wanting to disturb Benny but the need is all consuming.

Benny shifts slightly, and at first, he seems oblivious, lost in his own pain. But then, you feel him turn over, his eyes locking with yours as he notices the subtle movements beneath the sheet.

Your hand slows to a stop feeling the uncertainty creeping in. For a moment, the room falls into a hush, the tension undeniable as you take a breath. His gaze lingers, full of curiosity and something deeper, as he takes in the sight of your flushed cheeks and the delicate rise and fall of your chest.

Without a word, Benny slowly pulls the sheets down, exposing your body to the cool night air. His gaze dark and intense as his eyes fixate on your hand nestled between your legs.

He looks back into your eyes searching and understanding what you need. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reaches out, his hand hovering just above yours for a moment, the anticipation building between you.

Then, with a delicate touch, he guides his hand gently slipping it over yours within your lace panties.

The warmth of his touch sends a wave of arousal through you and your heart skips a beat as his fingers press lightly against yours, guiding your movements and urging you to continue.

You feel a sense of surprise and relief as his hand squeezes yours, intensifying the pressure on your clit.The room fills with the soft, slick sounds of your wetness, his fingers moving seamlessly over yours feeling the rhythmic thrust of your fingers into yourself as your arousal spreads across your inner thighs.

Your heart races, and your breath hitches as he begins to guide your hand faster, pressing your palm against your swollen clit harder. Soft moans begin to escapes your lips and the sound ignites something deep within Benny.

With a steady hand, he gently removes your fingers, and replaces them with his own. His fingers glide up and down your soaked folds until they are slick with wetness then he slowly eases them deep inside of you.

A desperate moan falls from your lips being deprived of his touch for so long, the feeling of his fingers is profound as they fill you with a satisfying depth that makes your breath catch.

Your wetness coats his thrusting fingers as he moves them expertly within you , his touch is steady despite his injuries and the sound of your slickness fills the room, mixing with your pleasurable soft moans.

Benny is fully focused on you and slowly moves closer pressing his body against yours. You can feel the heat radiating from him, intensifying the connection between you even more.

His fingers glide in and out of you with deliberate firm strokes, expertly teasing, and coaxing you toward release. Your core throbs with need, tightening with each pass of his fingers, until you’re overwhelmed by the way he knows exactly how to bring you to the brink.

You moan loudly feeling your body quivering as the pressure builds inside you and Benny moves his fingers faster.

He is focused entirely on you and the way your body responds to him, driving him to push you even further, making you feel everything you’ve been missing.

He presses his thumb to your aching clit and circles it with relentless precision building the pleasure so high it’s almost unbearable.

Your legs tremble as your hands clutch the sheets, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you endure the overwhelming sensation. The pressure inside of you coils tighter and tighter, until you’re at the brink of inevitable release.

“..Come for me baby ” Benny finally says having a surge of confidence knowing he’ll be able to satisfy you. “Show me how much you need me” he says craving your pleasure to rebuild his own.

And with a final, expert thrust of his fingers, you shatter. Your climax hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Your body convulses, your core tightening around his fingers as you cry out, the sound echoing through the room.

You pant heavily, your chest heaving as you come down from the high, your body trembling with aftershocks. The release is so powerful, you feel lightheaded, your mind spinning from the intense pleasure.

Benny withdraws his fingers slowly, his touch gentle as he pulls them from your throbbing core and he looks at you, his eyes dark with a desire you haven’t seen in a long time.

For a moment neither of you move, the silence only being broken by the sound of your labored breaths.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent plea lingering in their depths as he glances down at your lips. The intimacy undeniably as he leans in, closing the distance with a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft against yours, moving hesitantly at first, almost cautiously, as if he’s rediscovering something precious. His kiss deepens, and you feel his tongue slide gently into your mouth, coaxing a moan from you as explores with a slow, deliberate rhythm making your heart race.

The taste of him, and the way his lips and tongue move against yours, send sparks of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your hands finally reach him, roaming over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his skin and you find yourself wanting to give him back the pleasure he’s just given you.

Your hand moves lower, slipping beneath his waistband, seeking out his cock. Your touch is gentle at first, your fingers wrapping around his thick shaft with a tender reverence. He’s only slightly hard, a stark contrast to how he used to be fully erect at the mere sight of you.

You can feel the hesitation in his body, the way he tenses, the lingering effects of pain and doubt clouding his response. You stroke him softly, trying to coax him to full arousal, but his cock remains the same, the weight of his injury hanging over him, holding him back.

Benny breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours, trying to find the right words, the right way to explain why he’s not quite ready. You meet his gaze, your voice soft and filled with understanding, “Teach me how to please you with my mouth, Benny,” you say with a blend of tenderness and desire.

His eyes darken with a mix of conflict and lust. For a moment, he hesitates, then slowly nods, the need in him beginning to overpower his reservations. “Yeah,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’ll show you.”

Benny sits up, easing himself back to rest against the headboard. You gently slide your fingers to the hem of his undershirt, slowly lifting it over his head. As you pull the shirt off, your eyes trace the contours of his muscled body, each bruise telling a story of his pain, but also stirring something deeper inside you, a desire to make him feel good again.

The sight of him, strong yet vulnerable ignites a longing in your core. You place a pillow behind his back and with gentle hands, you begin to remove his pajama pants, easing them over his cast. Once fully naked Benny spreads his legs apart, making room for you as you settle between his thighs.

His body tenses with anticipation as you take in the sight of his cock, long and thick, though not yet fully hard, resting with an impressive weight between his legs. When you look up at him, there’s a mix of vulnerability and desire in his eyes, a silent plea for what’s to come.

You start slowly, kissing the sensitive skin along his inner thighs, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles as he reacts to your touch. Your lips trail closer to his cock, building the anticipation.

Benny watches you intently, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you finally kiss the head of his cock. Your warm tongue swirling around the tip, teasing him as you glance up at him through your lashes, silently asking him to guide you.

“That… feels good” he praises, his voice low and breathy. “Keep going…” he urges, his eyes filled with a raw intensity experiencing pleasure for the first time in what feels like forever.

You take his cock into your mouth feeling him harden against your tongue. His hips twitch involuntarily as you create a delicious suction, making him groan. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting a hint of saltiness that quickly dissipates, and he groans again, louder this time, the sound desperate and raw making your core throb with need.

“That’s it…” Benny mutters, his voice filled with satisfaction as his hand rests gently on your head lacing his fingers gently through your hair.

He lifts his hips slightly, wanting to push himself deeper into your mouth and you can feel the power shifting within him, his desire overtaking his initial hesitation.

“Take it …deeper” he urges, his hand tightening in your hair, guiding you as his cock fills your mouth completely causing an ache in your jaw.

You continue to glide your mouth along his heavy cock and it throbs against your tongue, growing harder with every suck.

“K-keep going, baby…” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, his need evident in every word as he savors the way you suck him off.

His tip brushes the back of your throat, and you slightly gag, the sensation causing your throat to tighten around him. The feel of it draws a deep groan from him, the pleasure undeniable.

Staring down at you, his eyes darken with lust as you try to take more of his cock and he groans in pleasure, savoring every gag of your inexperience as you keep going.

His grip on your hair tightens his breathes sharp as he begins to guide your head up and down on his throbbing cock.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to keep up, driven by the need to satisfy him, to give him everything he’s silently demanding.

His cock swells even harder and the pressure becomes too much, making it difficult for you to go on. A desperate whimper escapes your throat that vibrates his shaft and he groans in pleasure watching your body begin trembling with every effort.

His grip on your hair tightens as he fights the urge to take more from you realizing you’re giving him everything, pushing yourself to your limits and it makes his cock throb with an almost painful intensity.

His eyes go dark with a deep, simmering arousal craving more than just the pleasure of your mouth.

The thought of claiming you, of burying himself deep within you, overtakes him, and with a sudden, urgent need, he pulls your mouth all the way off his cock.

“I want all of you,” he confesses, his voice weaker and filled with urgency. You’re so desperate to feel him inside of you after pleasing his cock , that you don’t hesitate for a second.

His breath catches in his throat as you eagerly climb from between his legs, your excitement and longing undeniable as you straddle his lap feeling how wet you are as you position yourself on him.

He winces from the sudden movements and you see the pain you’ve caused, but your desire for him overtakes everything as you capture his mouth in a heated kiss.

He whimpers against your lips as your fingertips glide down his ribs over his bruises.

His body weakened from the beating he endured, makes every movement take more effort than usual, but having you like this, so eager and willing, makes him feel something special something powerful despite his condition.

It’s more than just desire, it’s the realization that even in his vulnerable state, you still want him, you still crave to have him.

You begin slowly grinding against his hardened cock, feeling the friction through the thin fabric of your panties and it makes Benny moan in your mouth.

He tries to continue kissing your lips, but the sensation of you moving on top of him is almost too much to bear and his body trembles slightly beneath you.

His hands slide up your sides, creeping under your nightie. He breaks the kiss just long enough to pull the nightie over your head, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. His eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your breasts cupping each one with a tender squeeze. His fingers linger on your skin before they trail down, finding the waistband of your panties

Without a second thought, he digs his fingers into the lace and rips them apart. The sound of the fabric tearing makes you gasp, his lust for you intensified by his unrestrained need to take you.

He pulls you back into a searing kiss, wincing briefly as his battered ribs protest, but he doesn’t let it stop him. The intimacy between you is intense with the blend of vulnerability and raw desire making every touch, every kiss, feel profound and deeply intimate.

You break the kiss and rise slightly, allowing his hard cock to spring free and you both look down to watch it sway. Now painfully hard and thick it stands proudly. His shaft taunt and veiny, throbbing with need his tip red and swollen with arousal.

He shudders suddenly feeling his blood coursing so quickly, his breaths heavier, each one a mix of anticipation and the lingering pain from his injuries.

“I don’t want to hurt you Benny,” you say softly, your heart pounding with a mix of longing and regret.

You can hear his uneven breaths as his chest rises and falls, fighting to push past the discomfort. The strain in his eyes is evident, one still darkened by a bruise, revealing the toll his injuries are taking on him.

You reach up gently and lightly rub your thumb over the bruise, your touch tender as you try to soothe him, offering a silent comfort in the midst of his struggle.

“You won’t hurt me, baby,” he promises, and there’s a determination in his blue eyes that tells you he’s not backing down. He wants this as much as you do.

“Alright, Benny,” you whisper, surrendering to the pull of your desire. You cup his jaw, your touch gentle but filled with an urgent need as you bring your lips to his. The kiss is both tender and consuming, and you can feel the heavy breaths of exertion spilling into your mouth as his hands slide up to your waist.

Despite the pain radiating through his body, Benny’s resolve doesn’t waver. He’s determined to fulfill both your needs, to reclaim what you’ve both been missing.

His hands slide down your hips grasping firm, as he slowly begins guiding you down onto him.

His cock presses against your entrance and the resistance is immediate, your body sealed tight without him for so long. You can feel his breath hitch as he tries again, this time with force. His hands shake on your waist as he pushes into you with raw determination.

A shared moan tears from both of you, the sound raw, and desperate, as his cock finally penetrates, solid and unyielding, your walls gripping him with an unforgiving tightness.

You bury your face into his neck, moaning as his grip on you tightens, his hands steadying you as he pushes deeper, breaking himself into you, inch by inch.

“It’s alright, baby,” he breathes, his voice strained but reassuring, each exhale warm against your skin. His body trembles beneath you, his muscles tensing as he fights through the pain, but he refuses to stop. There’s something driving him, a need to claim you, to bury himself inside you until the pain is a distant memory.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes deeper. A loud moan spills from your lips as he finally fills you completely, holding you firmly in his lap, his control relenting as he waits, letting the initial discomfort melt into a wave of intense pleasure. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, every pulse sending jolts of sensation through your core

“I missed you baby,” Benny confesses, resting his forehead against yours, his breaths ragged and uneven as he feels your walls pleasurably tighten around his cock.

“I missed you too, Benny,” you pant, your lips brushing soft kisses against his, enduring the throbbing ache and the intense fullness of having him deep inside you again.

His hands move down to your hips, his grip firm and steady as he guides you in a slow, deliberate rhythm pulling you against him pressing you deeper into his lap as he curses under his breath.

“Fuck ….you feel good,” he whispers, his words heavy with raw desire as his blue eyes meet yours, filled with a vulnerability and intense yearning.

You bring your hands to his jaw, cradling his face as you kiss him softly. Your lips brushing over his filled with longing and he guides your hips to roll down in his lap harder, making you take every inch of his cock deeper.

You both moan into each others mouths feeling the waves of ecstasy surge through your core and Benny feels every inch of him consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of gliding tightly inside your walls again.

His moans turn into soft whimpers as you increase the pace, riding him harder clinging to the back of his neck. You pull him closer, using him for leverage as you glide down faster and harder on his cock.

The sharp sting of his injuries and the soreness of his bruises intensify each time you settle on him, but he holds on to the overwhelming pleasure wanting more despite the pain.

His breaths come in short, shallow gasps as he looks at you with a mix of desire and vulnerability in his eyes, his body protesting, strained from each painful effort.

“Don’t stop,” he pants, his voice weak, almost pleading, as his hips push up against you, his body chasing the pleasure you’re giving him. His cock is rock hard and throbbing with need as he grabs your hips, pulling you deeper into his lap, making you take him fully.

“Yes, Benny!” you cry out, your body arching into him as he guides you to ride him harder, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully, driving his cock deeper, claiming you completely.

The sound of his light breathy and whimpers resonate within you, sending a thrill through your entire body as you watch him trying not to lose himself.

You lean in kissing him deeply and his whimpers are muffled against your mouth as you feel the pleasure of his thick cock gliding in and out of your walls.

His grasp tightens on your hips his fingers digging in desperately, determined to stay with you despite the pain, his need for you overriding everything else.

You grind down on him with force, feeling his cock push deeper inside you and a loud, desperate moan tears from his throat

His heart pounds wildly as he struggles to hold on, the pleasure of being inside you driving him to the very edge.

Every thrust, every touch, every gasp shared between you feels like a reclaiming of something lost. You feel the press of his chest against yours, the frantic beat of his heart, and the desperate way his hands grasp your body.

“I-I’m close… n-need to come…,” he pants, his voice trembling, each word filled with the sound of his struggle to hold on just a little longer.

You hold him closer, your breath warm and seductive against his ear. “Come for me Benny,” you whisper pressing your body closer, moving in perfect rhythm with him, intensifying his pleasure and urging him toward release.

His touch lightens momentarily, his hands guiding your movements to ride him slower, the weakness in his body clashing with the desire raging inside him.

But then, with a deep, guttural groan, he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fights to reclaim control.

“I wanna… feel you come for me,” he breathes, his voice rough with determination. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he places one hand on the bed for stability. He bends his un-injured leg for support and thrusts his cock into you such precision it sends shockwaves of pleasure surging through your core.

“Benny oh god!” you scream in pleasure your walls clenching with every thrust of his cock, driving him to push you further.

“Fuck!” he cries out, his hands gripping you tighter as he drives his cock even harder, reclaiming a depth that makes your eyes roll back in pleasure. “That’s it…” he says through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “Take it all,” he says with effort, his voice thick with intensity.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you moan loudly against him, pulling him closer as he fills you over and over again with a depth that has you seeing stars. His breaths are shallow and ragged against your neck filled with every effort it takes for him to keep going.

His eyes remain locked on you, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face, his own need to see you unravel consuming him, pushing him to hold on just a little longer, to push you over the edge.

You can hear the change in him, the way his voice catches with every thrust, his moans breaking into breathless pants. The deep, primal groans and the whimpers of pleasure that slip out when he can’t hold back.

“Let me feel it,” he pleads, his voice strained, his blue eyes locked on yours with a desperate intensity. “I need to feel you come.” He breathes, the need in his eyes is unmistakable he’s silently begging to be taken with you.

Your pleasure builds to a peak, and with one final thrust, he hits that perfect spot deep inside of you, sending you spiraling into an intense orgasm.

Your body tenses, your nails digging into his shoulders. You cry out his name, your muscles clenching rhythmically around his cock.

Benny can feel every pulse and shudder of your release, and his groans become louder, more uncontrolled against you, the pain that once held him back replaced by the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

His cock throbs inside your walls, and you can feel his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight as he nears his release.

With a final, broken moan, Benny gasps, “I’m gonna—” his words are cut off by a strangled moan as his orgasm crashes over him. His hips jerk violently against you and he releases, his cock pulsing as he spills into you.

You moan loudly, feeling the warm rush of his cum flood your walls and his body trembles with the intensity of his climax, every ounce of pain gone, replaced by the addictive high of pleasure.

His breaths come out hot and ragged against your neck, each exhale trembling with the remnants of his pleasure. He buries his face there, nuzzling against your skin as he softly pants and whimpers next to your ear.

You stay there, still connected, as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through your bodies, entwined in a profound connection of intimacy. Every exhale of his breath against your skin a testament to his determination, a silent promise that he gave you everything he had left.

You gently trail your fingertips along his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly melt away as he rests into you, his body still trembling slightly from the exertion.

As he holds you in his lap, you can feel the rapid, wild beating of his heart against yours, his sharp breaths the only sound in the quiet room, echoing softly against your neck.

“I love you so much Benny,” you whisper, your voice tender and filled with emotion as you feel him relax even more, his grip on you softening as he sinks deeper into the comfort of your embrace.

“I love you too, baby,” he murmurs softly against your skin, his voice warm and affectionate, his breaths weak uneven. With a gentle exhale against your skin he places a soft, lingering kiss on your shoulder.

His body rests heavily against yours as his breaths become softer and the weight of him begins pressing down on you as he struggles to stay awake.

“Benny, you need to rest,” you whisper gently, trying to rouse him from exhaustion.

“Alright,” he relents and his voice barely audible as every muscle in his body seems to weaken, the weight of fatigue pressing down on him.

Carefully you sit up, feeling the lingering warmth of his embrace as you place your hands gently over his chest. You slowly lift your hips up sliding his large cock from deep within your walls, hearing a faint slick sound as the tip finally slips out making both of you moan softly from loss of contact.

He gazes up at you affectionately, and you notice a look of deep satisfaction in his eyes one you haven’t seen in a long time.

“You feel good, Benny?” you ask with an affectionate smile. His blue eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, his full lips parting as he pants for breath.

“Yeah” he breathes with a smile. You grin gently threading your fingers through his hair cradling the back of his head in your hands. You lean in and place a kiss on his forehead filled with pride and deep satisfaction.

The warmth of your touch and the gentle press of your lips make his eyes flutter closed as a soft sigh escapes his lips relaxing completely.

His arms hold you close as he presses his face against your chest, savoring the safety and comfort you bring him. The connection between you feels deeper than ever, a silent understanding that speaks volumes of your love for each other.

As Benny slowly releases you from his embrace, his arms tremble slightly with exhaustion. He shifts his body lower, his movements slow and unsteady as he places his palms on the bed for support.

You give him space as he lowers himself down, the effort leaving him almost too weak to move as he settles on the bed next to you.

With his final moments of strength, Benny pulls you into his strong arms, wrapping them around you in a protective embrace. You can feel the strain on his muscles, the way they tremble slightly, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels through the simple act of holding you close.

His chest still rises and falls with soft breaths, a reminder of how much he’s given, how deeply he’s pushed past his own limits just to be with you.

“It’s okay, Benny,” you whisper softly, your thumb tracing comforting patterns along his cheek. “Just rest now… I’m not going anywhere.” You say softly, hoping to soothe the lingering tension in his body.

A soft sigh escapes his lips as he relaxes against you, his body slowly giving in to the exhaustion. His eyes flutter closed as sleep finally overtakes him. His grip on you loosens but his hands still hold you close, even in sleep.

The tension and pain that had been etched on his face gradually turn into peaceful serenity, and the faintest hint of a smile forms on his lips, a quiet sign that tonight a part of Benny has been reclaimed.

His Resolve

You and Benny are fully aware of Johnny’s fiery retribution with the Vandals after the injuries Benny sustained, it was impossible to miss.

The news had been plastered all over the papers and television, detailing how the Lakeside bar had been burned to the ground while Benny recovered in the hospital.

As Benny lay in bed, fresh out of surgery, it was the first time you heard him laugh since his injuries. The sound was weak and raspy, filled with a mix of satisfaction and respect for what his brotherhood had done on his behalf. It was a glimpse of the old Benny shining through.

Now, with Benny slowly regaining his strength over the past few weeks, it’s no surprise when you hear the faint rumble of a motorcycle in the distance as you wash the dishes.

You quickly go to collect Benny’s plate from lunch in the living room. He’s resting back on the couch, his leg propped up comfortably on an ottoman as he watches I Dream of Jeanie.

As you reach for his empty plate, you pause to observe him. The moment Benny hears the familiar rumble of a motorcycle approaching the house, he sits up, his eyes lighting up with unmistakable excitement.

“That has to be Johnny,” Benny says, a grin spreading across his face. You manage a weak smile, but inside, you can’t shake the resentment that’s formed, knowing Benny’s injuries were caused because he was beaten for wearing his colors.

Benny quickly tries to get up, grabbing the couch for support, but he struggles to gain his footing, his heart racing with too much excitement. In his haste, he knocks his crutch to the floor, reaching for it in futility, unable to pick it up.

“Benny, sit,” you say warmly, guiding him back down onto the couch. “I’ll bring him here. You’ll have plenty of time to run around once you’re fully healed,” you add, placing his crutch to rest on the arm of the couch.

“Alright, baby,” he says, and you look into his eager blue eyes as he tries to contain his excitement.

You reach the front door just as Johnny knocks. He grins as soon as he sees you. “Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, his voice carrying that familiar teasing tone. “Where’s the crippled old man?” he adds playfully.

“He’s in the living room,” you gesture with a warm smile. Johnny follows you inside, his boots echoing softly against the floor as he makes his way down the hall.

As you both enter the living room, Benny is relaxed with his arms spread across the back of the couch, practically vibrating with excitement. He’s trying to play it cool, but you can see how much he’s been looking forward to this moment.

“Look at you, all propped up like the queen,” Johnny teases, his eyes flicking to Benny’s casted foot resting on the ottoman.

“Who you calling Queen?” Benny shoots back, grinning broadly, his tone playful but carrying a hint of the old fire that’s been missing.

Johnny grins as he plops down next to Benny, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He hands one to Benny and places another between his own lips. With a flick of his lighter, they’re both soon smoking together, the air quickly filling with the familiar haze.

“You look good, Benny. You look alright,” Johnny compliments, but then he notices you still standing in the entryway.

“Oh, you mind if we smoke in here, seeing as Benny’s all fucked up?” he asks, glancing at you.

“That’s fine, Johnny,” you reply, feeling a bit out of place. You walk over to the television and turn the volume down, trying to make yourself useful.

Johnny quickly turns his attention back to Benny. “The guys thought you might be really out of it,” he says, nodding toward Benny’s cast.

“He is out of it. He can’t walk, Johnny,” you interject, crossing your arms.

“What did the surgeon say?” Johnny asks, completely ignoring your comment.

Benny takes a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up as he exhales. “They cut through a tendon,” he says, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“Jesus,” Johnny exclaims. “They tie it back together or what?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Benny replies, exhaling a stream of smoke.

The tension of feeling unwanted in the room makes you uncomfortable, especially as you see them both deep in conversation. With Benny clearly not needing you for anything you quickly excuse yourself, heading to the kitchen to make them drinks and give them space to talk.

The banter between Benny and Johnny flows easily and naturally, you hear Benny laugh loudly several times the sound echoing through the house as he has a fit.

You smile hearing him so happy and then feel a bitterness rising that you’ve never made him laugh that way.

The thought gnaws at you, and before you realize it, you’re squeezing the lemons more aggressively, the juice splattering as you make the lemonade.

When you enter the living room with the two glasses, the air is now thick with smoke. Johnny and Benny are just finishing their conversation as you hand Benny his fresh lemonade.

“We’d sure love to see you out there. It’s gonna be a big one, maybe the biggest one yet!” Johnny says enthusiastically.

“Biggest what?” you ask, curious, as you offer the other glass of lemonade to Johnny.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says, waving it off, still engrossed in their discussion.

“It’s a picnic,” Benny explains to you. “Johnny says they’re going all out for the Daytona one,” he continues, before turning to Johnny. “How long is that, eight weeks away?”

“Yeah,” Johnny confirms.

“I mean, I’ll still be in a cast by then, but—”

“A cast?!” Johnny interrupts. “Nah, nah, you can shift with your left foot. You can always use your front brake if ya can’t put no pressure on it,” he says, gesturing to Benny’s cast.

Benny thinks it over as he takes a drag from his cigarette and Johnny seeing his hesitation uses the brotherhood to lure his decision.

“You know the guys..the guys would love to see ya out there. They’re all really worried about you.”he says earnestly

Feeling irritated by the smoke and being ignored, you place Johnny’s untouched lemonade down on the mantle harder than you intended, the glass clinking sharply.

You walk to the window, sliding it up forcefully and hitting it into place with several loud whacks as the fresh air immediately rushes in.

Hearing their conversation halt mid-sentence, you turn to see both Johnny and Benny looking at you with their brows raised in concern.

The weight of their gaze makes you feel exposed, as if they’ve noticed the frustration you’ve been trying to hide all along.

Benny then turn to Johnny and makes his decision without you. “I’ll be there,” he says with certainty, his tone final.

“Alright” Johnny says with a wide grins clearly pleased with Bennys decision. “ I’ll get out of here,” Johnny says as he gets up. “You rest,” he adds, pointing at the cast. Benny smirk as he takes another long drag from cigarette.

Johnny gives you a brief nod, “sweetheart” he says his eyes barely meeting yours before he turns and heads for the door. He leaves without another word, his abruptness toward you making you feel slighted.

The front door slams shut, the sound grating on your nerves, amplifying the irritation that’s already boiling inside of you.

You stand there for a moment, piecing together the conversation and the choice Benny made without consulting you. The tension in the room thickens, your earlier discomfort now edged with frustration.

You walk closer to Benny, crossing your arms as you look over him relaxed against the couch smoking his cigarette with a careless ease.

“You wouldn’t really ride your motorcycle injured with a cast would Benny?” you ask, concern lacing your voice.

“I dunno,” he replies, waving his cigarette hand through the air dismissively. “Turn up the TV, would you?” He says in irritation hating that his injury prevents him from doing the simplest things himself.

But you stand firm, unmoving. “I don’t want you riding, Benny,” you say sternly.

He slowly glances over at you, raising an eyebrow at your firmness.

“Yeah, it scares me especially this soon after surgery. I don’t like it,” you continue, doubling down on your resolve.

Benny’s eyes narrow, his head tilting slightly. “You don’t like it?” he repeats, his voice carrying an edge as he squints at you.

“I get worried!” you say louder, the thought of him permanently injuring himself just to prove something to Johnny and the Vandals making your heart pound with anxiety.

The silence that follows your words is heavy with tension, and you can feel the growing distance between you and Benny with each passing second.

Benny takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring off into the distance, lost in thought as he weighs his options. His jaw tightening as you watch the internal struggle playing out in his mind.

“I should just go,” he finally says, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, his voice steady tinged with an underlying sadness.

His eyes flicker with a cold, distant determination, as he nods slightly. “I should just leave,” he repeats, the words heavy with finality.

His words hang in the air, and you feel your heart drop, the realization hitting you hard that he’s considering genuinely leaving again.

“What?” you respond, your voice rising in pitch as your resolve begins to soften.

He nods his head, a look of realization crossing his face as he stares off blankly into the distance.

“It’s better this way. You’d be better off,” he finally says, his voice low and steady. He raises the cigarette to his lips with a deliberate slowness, taking a long, drawn out drag, the smoke lingering as he exhales, solidifying the weight of his words.

“Stop it! Stop it!” you cry out, your voice trembling with desperation as the fear creeps in gripping your heart.

The memory of the last time he abandoned you abruptly flashing through your mind, he left you without a second thought once his mind was set, leaving you shattered and utterly alone. The panic begins to set in, a cold, suffocating sensation that makes it hard to breathe.

Benny continues, the hurt in his voice becoming more evident, “You wouldn’t have to take care of me, worry about me…”he says revealing the truth he’s been harboring.

You shake your head frantically, tears welling up in your eyes as you tremble at the implications of what he’s saying.

He takes a long drag from his cigarette, letting his words sink in before exhaling slowly.

“When I heal up, I’ll leave,” he says with cold finality, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, as if the words are a sentence he’s already decided on.

The statement hits you hard, knocking the breath out of you, and you take a moment to gather your resolve.

Benny doesn’t say anything more and leans forward to stub out his cigarette, the action slow and deliberate, like he’s putting the final seal on a decision that’s been weighing on him for far too long.

He leans back, arms outstretched, a look of painful acceptance on his saddened face, torn between what he feels is right and what he desires.

In a moment of quiet understanding, you slowly sit on the couch beside Benny, finally able to see what he has always needed most of all. Your acceptance of his resolve, the need to do what he feels he must even when you don’t agree with the decision.

As you look up at him, your eyes are filled with a mix of sorrow and reluctant understanding, fully grasping that he’s been struggling with.

Benny meets your eyes with a look of determination and coldness, his emotions buried deep behind a wall of detachment.

Knowing exactly what he needs in this moment you lean against him and wrap your arms gently around his torso holding him closely and providing him the love and comfort he so desperately needs.

You nestle into him and press your face gently against his chest as he looks down at you with a sternness and confusion in his gaze but then, gradually, his expression softens and he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you close with a grip that is both possessive and protective.

His face buries into your hair, and you can feel the tension in his body slowly begin to ease, knowing that even though you don’t agree with his decision, you still accept him for who he is.

His hands thread through your hair, cradling your head as he holds you against his chest. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words until you finally break it.

“Benny, I don’t want you to go,” you relent, your voice soft, filled with a final act of surrender, understanding that he will do what he feels he must.

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering as he deeply inhales your scent, something so beautiful and sweet, something that anchors him when he feels lost.

His thumbs gently trace reassuring circles on your back as he rests his head against yours, no longer torn between his loyalty to the brotherhood and his love for you.

In this moment, the conflict within him fades away,and he feels completely at peace in your embrace more grounded and connected than he has ever felt before in his life.

Just you

At night, as Benny stands in the shower, the warm water cascading over his tired muscles, he has only one thing on his mind…you. The steam fills the small bathroom, clouding the mirror as he steps out, dries off, and brushes his teeth.

He uses the door frame to steady himself as he makes his way to the nightstand, his movements slower as he balances on his uninjured leg but he’s determined to do everything himself to prove himself to you.

He quickly takes his medications, and climbs into bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against his warm skin.

When you enter the bedroom, Benny’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. You’re wearing a silk robe, which you slowly slip off to reveal a delicate nightie underneath. The fabric clings to your curves in a way that stirs something deep within him, awakening a longing to create something passionately between you.

As you glance around the room, you notice that Benny has already taken care of himself. He’s brushed his teeth, taken his medications, and is already tucked in, waiting for you.

“Do you need help with anything, Benny?” you ask softly, your voice tinged with pride, knowing he managed to take care of everything on his own.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours from where he’s resting in bed. For a moment, you see a flicker of something …lust, perhaps, but then it’s gone, replaced by a steady, confident gaze. “Just you,” he says, his voice low, the words laced with an undertone that sends a thrill through you.

A smile plays on your lips as you nod feeling a sudden blush creeps up your cheeks from his words. “Alright, Benny, I won’t be long,” you say sweetly, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face for the night.

Benny watches you go, a spark of desire igniting in his chest, seeing the soft sway of your hips, the gentle curves of your body. He aches with longing, his eyes following your every step, craving the closeness that’s just out of reach.

He lays back against his pillow, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to show you how much he needs you, how deeply he loves you. His cock is already swelling with desire, hardening at the mere thought of you.

When you return and climb into bed with him you reach over and click off the light, plunging the room into the darkness of moonlight. With a small, sigh, you settle in, your body turned from Benny as you prepare for the usual nights sleep.

But Benny shifts in bed moving closer, his hand reaching out gently brushing against your hip. His touch soft and tender, a silent request for intimacy as he waits for your response.

You feel the eagerness in his touch and feeling a bit slighted from your argument earlier you teasingly ignore him.

He grows bolder, his fingers gripping your hip with a firm but gentle pressure, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles along the curve. Despite his advances, you stay unyielding.

“Baby,” he finally says softly, his voice low and pleading with desire. “I need you…”

His hand lingers poised on your hip awaiting for your response and you cover your mouth unable to stifle the soft unmistakable sound of a giggle that escapes.

Benny smiles understanding your playful challenge.

“You gonna make me work for it tonight, hm?” he asks, his voice low and teasing as his hand trails slowly along your side, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through you.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you nod, feeling the spark of anticipation growing between you. You bite your lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. “Mm-hm,” you confirm with a nod.

Benny’s smiles slowly trailing his finger tips down your shoulder, his touch tantalizing and deliberate, sending a warm shiver through your body.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with longing. “Seeing you in your little nightie and now you teasing me like this..,” he says, pulling gently at the silk strap, his fingers brushing against your skin.

“Now I need you, more than anything,” he confirms, his voice thick with desire as he leans in closer. His breath is soft against your neck. His chest presses firmly against your back as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you intimately against him. “Don’t tease me like this baby,” he breathes into your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

You close your eyes, trying to hold onto your resolve, but the heat of his body and the intensity in his voice start to warm you up to his touch as you slowly give in. “Benny…,” you begin, your voice soft and breathless, but he shushes you with a quiet “shhh,” his breath warm against your ear as his hand slides down your side, the silk of your nightie gliding smoothly under his fingers as he teasing the edges of your panties with a feather-light touch.

“Mm Mmn, you wanted to tease me remember?” he says, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. “Now it’s my turn,” he continues, his tone deepening as his fingers widen their grasp, exploring your body with a possessive touch keeping you on edge. He draws out your anticipation with every firm deliberate squeeze. “Let’s see how much you can take,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine

His words break through, and you can feel the wetness increasing between your legs. You glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, the heat in his eyes making your heart race. “You’re not playing fair Benny,” you whisper, your voice breathless.

Benny’s lips curve into a knowing smile as his hand continues its slow exploration, sliding under the silk of your nightie. “Who said I was playing?” he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. The look in his eyes is one of pure, unrestrained lust, and it sends a wave of heat through your body, making you ache to give in to him completely.

“Benny…” you begin softly, your voice tinged with need, but he silences you with a kiss on your lips, slow and deliberate. The tip of his tongue teasing yours, sending waves of heat through your body. You moan into his mouth, unable to contain the pleasure building inside you.

His hand slowly slips under your nightie, gliding over your heated skin. He finds the edge of your lace panties, his fingers slipping inside to explore the slickness of your arousal. His touch is teasing and slow, his fingers glide through your wetness, each stroke making you crave him even more.

Benny’s lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers continue their exploration as he slips them deep inside of you, finding that sensitive spot within and stroking it with a rhythm that makes your body tremble. Your whimpers mix with your gasps, each sound growing more desperate as the pleasure builds inside you.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers against your neck, his voice low with desire. “I love feeling you like this baby,” he praises.

As his fingers curl inside you, he increases the pressure, his thumb circling your clit in time with his strokes. The sensation is overwhelming, every touch sending you closer to the edge. Your hips begin to move against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction, your breath coming in short, heated pants.

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice filled with encouragement. “Let go for me baby. I want to feel you come.”

The combination of his skilled fingers and his his words send you spiraling closer to the edge, the pleasure mounting with each passing second. Your body quivers in anticipation, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.

Benny’s kisses travel down your throat, his tongue flicking against your pulse point as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm.

You feel every nerve in your body lighting up with desire, your whimpers turning into needy moans as you get closer and closer to release.

Your breathing quickens, your body tightening around his fingers as you teeter on the edge of release. His other hand moves to your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending even more sparks of pleasure through you. The intensity is almost too much to bear, and you can’t help but moan loudly as the tension coils its tightest within your core.

“Benny-!” you cry out, your voice breaking with pleasure as your walls clench around his fingers as you moan feeling the intensity so powerful it makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Come for me… soak my fingers, just like that.”

His words push you over the edge, and with a final stroke, you shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing with waves of pleasure that seem to go on forever.

Your moans are unending, filling the room as Benny holds you close, his fingers continuing to coax every last tremor from your body. Your panting and whimpers become breathless gasps, your entire being lost in the overwhelming ecstasy that courses through you.

He presses his lips to your neck, whispering softly, “That’s it, baby… so good for me ” his voice full of satisfaction knowing he’s given you exactly what you needed.

You come down from your high, your body trembling and weak and Benny withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips with a satisfied smile. He licks your arousal from his fingers, savoring the taste with a look of deep satisfaction.

Then, with a gentle yet insistent touch he guides your lips to his for a soft, lingering kiss.

The taste of pleasure on your lips sends a thrill through Benny as you struggle to catch your breath, feeling completely spent and utterly fulfilled. But the lingering intensity in his gaze tells you he’s far from done.

His hand slips under your nightie, his fingers tracing slow, sensual patterns around your navel. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “I want to fill you up baby,” his voice heavy with desire, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

“I want to create something lasting with you,” he reveals, his voice laced with intent. He lets the gravity of his words linger between you, his breath warm against your neck as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles just below your belly button, lingering there with purpose.

His lips graze your ear as he leans in closer, “I want to have a baby with you,” he confesses, his voice tinged with longing, a deep need to create something permanent, something that binds you both in a way that nothing else can.

His touch feels different now, more intimate, as his hand moves gently across your stomach. The thought of carrying his child, of creating something lasting and beautiful with Benny, fills you with a deep profound sense of connection and love.

You turn your head slightly, your lips barely brushing his as you whisper, “I want that too, Benny.” Your voice is breathless, filled with anticipation and desire. You place your hand over his, pressing it more firmly against your stomach, silently encouraging him, letting him know you’re ready.

Benny’s eyes darken with intensity at your response, his fingers tightening their hold on you. “It’s all I want now,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with raw emotion. He leans in, kissing you softly at first, savoring the warmth of your lips. Then, his kiss deepens, growing urgent and passionate, making your heart race.

He pulls back just enough to say, “I’ll show you how much I want you,” his breath hot against your lips. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pulls you closer pressing his hard insistent cock firmly against your thighs. The sudden, powerful contact makes you moan, revealing in the strength of his desire that he’s been holding back, waiting until this very moment to let you feel just how much he needs you.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with longing.

His hand glides up your side, fingers tracing lightly over the silk of your nightie and he hooks his finger under the strap, slipping it off your shoulder.

You help him with the other strap, feeling his breath warm against your neck as he guides the fabric lower. He presses soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, each one more tender than the last, as he pulls the nightie down as far as he can.

You lift your hips, allowing him to hook his thumb into your panties, sliding them down along with the delicate nightie. He glides the fabric over your legs slipping everything off completely, leaving you naked and exposed beneath his gaze.

His hand finds your arm guiding you from your side onto your back and the away his hands move with such reverence and desire, makes your heart race.

“I know we can’t have a baby yet,” Benny says, his voice tense with lust, his eyes roaming over your body.

“But I’m going to practice tonight like it’s for keeps,” he promises.

Benny lifts himself over you, his movements controlled and steady. His body hovers above yours, the intensity in his eyes never wavering as he positions himself to take you completely

You reach up, trailing your hands along his broad shoulders holding them for support.

“Benny, I’m going to make sure we have that baby,” you promise him, your voice filled with resolve. “I’m stopping my pills tonight.”

His eyes gaze into yours with a strong sense of fulfillment and a slow satisfied smile forms at the corners of his lips.

With his strong arms braced on either side of your head, he lowers himself down, his lips capturing yours in a deep, sensual kiss, savoring every second, every touch, as if he’s determined to make you melt beneath him.

He settles between your thighs and his body is a delicious weight on yours. The sensation of his firm chest pressing against yours sends a thrill through you as the heat of his skin and the hard planes of his abs fit perfectly against your soft curves. It’s intoxicating, the strength of him surrounding you, making you feel both protected and utterly desired.

His hardened cock teasingly presses against your wetness,and the sensation makes you moan into his mouth which he captures in his heated kiss.

Your hands instinctively slide down his back, trailing over the firm muscles that tense beneath your fingertips. You reach down to the curve of your own hips, grasping the hem of your panties, desperate to remove the final barrier between you.

Benny’s lips trail down your neck, his kisses hot and lingering, and he helps you, his fingers brushing against yours as you tug at the delicate lace.

He grips the fabric firmly and there’s a brief pause, just enough time for you to feel the anticipation build, and then, with a sharp, satisfying tear, he rips the delicate lace apart. The sound of threads snapping fills the air, mingling with your soft gasp.

Benny slips the lace from your body and flings it aside, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss that is both raw and possessive. His body presses harder against you, his cock throbbing with need as he nudges it insistently against you.

His hands slide up your sides cupping your breasts as he circles your nipples with his thumbs, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You moan softly into his mouth, arching your back, pressing your chest against his hands, craving more of his touch, more of him.

Benny pulls back, breaking the kiss his breaths heavy and uneven as he presses harder against your sensitive nipples, rolling them slowly under his thumbs. He watches you intently, savoring every cry, every moan that escapes your lips, taking his time to draw out your pleasure.

“I want to hear more of those sweet sounds,” he rasps, lowering his mouth to take one of your nipples between his lips. His tongue flicks teasingly over the sensitive peak before he sucks gently, working his lips and tongue in unison as your moans turn into soft, breathless cries.

His free hand continues to knead and tease your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching with just enough pressure to make you gasp. Your walls clench around nothing in response to the sensations he’s pulling from you.

Every lick, every pinch is planned, deliberate, keeping you teetering on the edge as he takes his time, savoring the way your body responds to him.

He shifts his body against yours, his hardened cock sliding through your soaked folds, spreading your wetness across your thighs. The slick heat between you only amplifying your physical need for each other.

“Baby, you’re so wet for me,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he feels the slickness coating his length. He nudges his tip against your entrance, making you cry out, your hips lifting in response, seeking more of him.

His hands slide down from your breasts, gliding over your waist and settling firmly on your hips. His grip is possessive as he spreads your legs into the perfect position.

His cock is hard, throbbing with an almost painful need as the tip presses against your entrance. He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust as he slowly pushes his hips forward.

His large cock eases into your slick tight walls sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body, your moans blending with his low, guttural groans as he pushes you to take it deeper.

He moves with deliberate slowness, savoring every inch as he fills you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pressure that has you arching into him, craving him as he continues to push. Benny groans, the sound deep and primal, as he buries himself into you completely his body trembling with the effort to hold back.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with his ragged breaths as he begins to move, each thrust measured, designed to push you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tight, guiding you to meet each of his thrusts , the rhythm between you building, intensifying with each passing second.

“Baby.. you feel so good,” Benny pants, his voice rough with desire. His lips find yours again, capturing your moans as his pace quickens, the pleasure coursing through you both. You can feel the tension building, the sweet, unbearable pressure signaling your impending release. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensation.

He breaks the kiss, his breath warm and uneven against your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up soon,” he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. “Gonna make you big and round, carrying our baby.” His hand slides possessively to rest on your stomach, his touch lingering and firm. “Everyone will know… how much I wanted this, how much I wanted you,” he breathes, his lips grazing your ear with each word

Benny’s other hand moves down, slipping between your legs his fingers brushing over your clit with deliberate, teasing strokes.

His fingers circle your clit, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your body as his words sink in, heightening the intensity of the moment. “You want that, don’t you?” he breathes, his voice deepening with desire.

You moan in response, your breath hitching as you manage to say, “Y-yes!…Yes I want that Benny.”

“Good “ he says grinding his hips harder and pushing his cock deeper, as his hand continues its relentless assault on your clit. “I want you to come baby,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, “come knowing what we’re going to make together… knowing how much I wanted to get you pregnant tonight.”

His words, his touch, and the deep, steady rhythm of his thrusts drives you to the edge. Your orgasm builds coiling the tension tighter and tighter until you can’t hold back any longer, it crashes through you, a tidal wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless, your body convulsing around him as you cry out his name.

“Take it deep for me” he groans with exertion feeling your walls tightening around his cock and a final, powerful thrust, Benny follows you into oblivion, his groans are guttural and raw, as he comes inside of you, his cock pulsing as his body trembles with the force of his release.

His breath comes in short, ragged pants as his hips gently grind against you, savoring every last moment of pleasure. Each spasm of his cock sending waves of warmth through your body.

He softly collapses against you, his breaths hot and ragged “The next one’s for keeps,” he says, his voice filled with exhaustion and excitement making a shared grin spread across both of your faces, knowing your mutual desire for the real thing.

He plants a tender kiss on your forehead, both of you spent but utterly satisfied, lost in the afterglow of a moment that feels like a new exciting path on your life adventure.

He’s Mine

After making sure Benny is settled in the morning, his breakfast finished and his medications taken, you sweetly kiss him on the forehead and tell him you’re going to make a quick dash to the grocery store.

As you get behind the wheel of your Mustang, you decisively head toward the Vandals’ club the grocery run was a rouse you had planned. The roar of the engine beneath you revs in the background of your focused thoughts. Your mind is set on a single goal: getting Benny out of the Vandals and claiming him all for yourself.

Once you arrive at the club you park the Mustang with precision, ensuring it’s securely locked before striding across the street. Dressed in a fitted crop top and high-waisted jeans, with a purse casually draped over your shoulder, you project confidence and determination. Each click of your heels against the pavement resonates with purpose as you approach the Vandal club.

With a deep breath, you push open the front door, your resolve unwavering.

The interior is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of smoke and stale beer. Only a few members are scattered around, some lounging, others staggering with drunkenness. Their eyes follow you as you enter, faint whistles being heard some looking you over with curiosity and others something darker.

One of them, a long haired man with tattoos creeping up his neck, steps forward, his eyes narrowing as he gets a closer look. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawls, his gaze lingering on you in a way that makes your skin crawl. “You lost, little lady? Or maybe you’re just looking for some company?” he adds with a sly grin.

You don’t hesitate, your voice cutting through his sleazy haze like a knife. “Where’s Johnny?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, your stance firm and unyielding.

The man holds up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, a smirk playing on his lips. “Easy pretty lady. Johnny’s in the back. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Within minutes, you find yourself sitting face-to-face with Johnny in his office. The tension in the room is thick. You are leaned back in your chair, arms and legs crossed, barely concealing your irritation. Johnny, with his elbows resting on the table and fingers interlaced, has a look of avoidance on his face as he tries to gauge your mood.

You lock eyes with Johnny, your gaze unwavering as his eyes dart around, deliberately avoiding yours.

Beneath the surface, your anger simmers, but you keep it in check, your voice firm and resolute.

“You can’t have him, the club can’t have him,” you state, each word carrying the weight of your decision, leaving no room for argument.

Johnny raises an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “Who?”

Your voice sharpens, cutting through the tense air. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Benny!” you snap, sitting up straighter as your arms cross tighter against your chest.

Johnny’s smirk fades, replaced by a cold, calculating look as he finally grasps your intent. Before he can respond, you press on, your voice steady but charged with emotion.

“He’s mine,” you declare with a possessive edge staking your claim on Benny with every ounce of determination you have.

Johnny’s eyes lock onto yours, recognition dawning that you’re not to be taken lightly. Benny was right you are tougher than you look.

Johnny remains silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of your words. A flicker of respect crosses his face as he realizes you’re not backing down.

You lean in further, frustration and fear making your voice rise.

“If he keeps riding his motorcycle for the club, he’s going to die one way or another. It’ll kill him, and you know it!”

Johnny meets your eyes with mock concern, his voice dismissive. “What am I supposed to do about it?”

You don’t back down, your eyes brimming with the intensity of your emotions.

Johnny looks away from you, thinking it over, trying to convey the nature of Benny’s independence.

“I don’t own Benny, just like you don’t own Benny,” Johnny says, his tone hardening to emphasize the point.

“Ain’t nobody can tell that kid nothin’,” he continues, as if the matter is settled but your eyes still lock onto his undeterred.

“He’s grown,” Johnny adds, his tone firm as if that finalizes everything.

As you continue to stare him down Johnny makes Bennys independence clear.

“If he wants to ride a bike, he’s gonna ride a bike,” Johnny says with a shrug, the finality in his voice knowing Benny’s choices have always been for himself.

You lean forward, your voice firm and pleading. “Not if you tell him not to. Not if you tell him he’s out of the club.”

Johnny scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “C’mon,” he mutters.

Your anger flares, your eyes locking onto his.

“I’m his wife, NOT you,” you snap, each word sharp and pointed.

Johnny’s eyes narrow. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he quips

You meet his gaze, unwavering and full of raw emotion. “Oh, I know you love him, I love him too,” you confess, your words hanging in the air. “That’s why you’ve got to help me.”

For a brief moment, something flickers in Johnny’s eyes, something like hesitation or guilt, but it’s quickly replaced by his hardened expression. “Are you done?” he asks, his voice cold, his brows easing as if trying to brush off the weight of your words.

You shake your head, the tension still thick between you. “I don’t know, am I?” you retort, challenging him with your defiance.

Johnny leans back in his chair, his patience wearing thin, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something he won’t name. “You got anything more to say?” he asks, his voice tight with barely contained annoyance.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “No. I said it,” you confirm, your voice final.

The silence that follows is heavy, an unspoken showdown as you both stare at each other. Finally, Johnny looks away, his expression twisted with annoyance . You stand abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor as you push it back, your heels echoing in the small office as you head for the door.

Before you leave, you turn back one last time, your voice sharp and definitive. “You can’t have him. The club can’t have him. he’s mine”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Johnny alone with the truth he doesn’t want to face: you’re determined to separate Benny from his life, as a Vandal and he can’t allow that to happen.

🏍️ To be continued 🏍️

Part 5: For Keeps

With every thing stripped from Benny he begins to understand what he really wants out of life, and after a fateful turn of events putting your life at risk, his decision is finalized changing both of your lives forever.

🔗 Master List

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️

@finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman @sillylittlethrowaway @lillypink @faephoria @butdaddyilovehim99 @nostalgichoya @ausssbutlershortstories @fallout-girl219

🏷️Always Tags Me List 💌

@lindszeppelin @abswifey @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Feelings

Media The Queens Gambit

Character Benny Watts

Couple Benny X Reader

Rating Sweet + SMut

Requested:

Hey fiction witch, if u can see this I have a request, in the show Beth leaves New York and goes back to her house and when Beth and Benny r on the phone Benny gets upset and tells Beth to not call him, after that happens can u plz make y/n find out that Beth hurt Benny and y/n being her sweet and empathetic self, goes to comfort Benny in his house and yk wtv happens next 🤭 if u can make that story asap that would be amazing thank u 🙏

I shifted my hips from side to side humming along with the tune coming from my record player speaker, My hands in the hot water washing up the dishes and pots from dinner. I jumped as I heard my phone begin its blaring. So I left the last pot to soak trying off my hands on my apron as I scampered my shoes across the floor of my little townhouse I quickly turned down the volume on my record player as I passed the shelf, I lost my footing a little on the rug's stupid curled corner and went tumbling onto my sofa on my back, luckily just beside my phone table so I picked up the red rotary phone from the table bringing it to my ear.

"Y/l/n Residence." I smiled

"Hi y/n" Beth smiled

"Ohh, My my to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Harmon?"

"Oh you know, nothing unusual. How's queens?"

"Boring. But finally unpacked my last few boxes so shaping up nicely. How's kentuky?"

"Much the same" she smiled "So, I had a question."

"ahh there is the point of your call, of course, ask away"

"You've been to Moscow correct?"

"Yes, I have. I assume there is a follow-up question."

"Yeah, I'm doing a bit of packing. I know everyone says Moscow is cold but... exactly how cold?"

"When they say cold they mean cold beth. It's freezing in Moscow. The snow came up to my knees. I was so cold I ripped stuffing out of the hotel pillow to shove in my bra because I was convinced my nipples would freeze off. and that's coming from a New York girl" I laughed "Pack for ice. Pack for snow. Pack for seeing your breath inside buildings."

"Really?"

"If you're too hot you can always take layers off," I explained

"Fair enough,"

"That all?"

"I had something else to ask too"

"Sure, fire away."

"Did you... Like to fuck Benny?"

"That's a bold question for six pm"

"But did you, when you two were... together?"

I laughed "My darling Elizabeth. Me and Benny never have been... together. Not officially anyway."

"But when you did. Did you like to?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"You can say every time you've had sex you liked it? sometimes stuff's just shit"

"But other than those times"

"I did. Course I did. Benny... is a complicated man"

"How so?"

"Because he's Benny" I laugh "He's weird, he thinks fifteen steps ahead at any one moment, he's passionate and dedicated with an ego big enough to fly himself to Moscow and back, but he's also... you know a man. so he's blunt and simple, and can't see a hint five inches in front of his face." I explained, "Why?"

"I think. it might be over."

"Over? Did it ever begin?"

"I mean... kinda. sort of. It's complicated."

"Beth. What happened?"

"So you know how Benny's been bugging me to come to New York"

"Yes. Because he misses you. That's his way of saying that."

"Yeah he even told me"

"He told you he missed you?"

"Yes"

"And you did what?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing!"

"Yeah I mean we called a little more but not much else. and I kinda... pissed him off"

"What did you do?"

"I gave the church the money back. I tried to ask him for money. if he wants to come he can help me pay for it right? he flipped out and told me not to call him again. That was... two days ago and he won't answer the phone. Guess I'm just kinda..."

"You're serious?" I sighed

"Yeah."

"Okay... I have not got time to deal with you" I sighed sitting up normally "All I'm gonna say is you've fucked up Beth. And I am going to clean this up, not because I want to help you. But because I care too much about Benny. I will call you later and we will have a chat" I told her before hanging up the phone

"Fuck..." I sighed "Harmon, you do make my life difficult" I grabbed the phone again and dialled the number for the Brooklyn basement listening to it ring but no answer, I tried again but still no answer, I gave it one more try but still no answer.

I gave up setting the phone back on the receiver and I got to my feet untieing my apron throwing it on the kitchen table grabbing my handbag making sure to grab my spare key. changing my shoes and slipping on my gloves before rushing out locking up my front door as I scampered down the steps of the stoop I unlocked the door on my little red mini threw my bag on the passenger seat quickly started the car up and scampered through the New York streets using all the little cut thoughts I knew to travel the six miles from my townhouse in queens to the basement in Brooklyn. I pulled my mini up behind the little blue Beatle parked and grabbed my bag climbing out of the car and heading down the little foul-smelling stairwells until I finally reached the metal door giving it a firm few taps. No answer came. but I could hear noises from within. I knocked much louder but still no answer came.

I rolled my eyes grabbed the spare key from my handbag forced it into the lock and opened the door shutting it behind me immediately I could tell things weren't good.

This apartment was dark, gloomy and damp as usual, bottles littered his table enough you could use them as pieces in a chess game, and things haphazardly moved around the apartment. And Benny amongst it all. Barefoot. Black jeans tight to his body, his belt gone, his black turtleneck on with his sleeves rolled up, frustration across his face, a beer in hand that he finished and there across his apartment smashing it on the wall.

“Benny?”

He ran a hand through his hair and glanced up at me “Hey y/n.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine” he snapped grabbing a cigarette from his table setting it in his mouth and lighting it up with his old Zippo

“Benny.” I glared

“I'm fine.” He snapped

“Beth called me.”

“Did she now? You come down to tell me I'm an asshole”

“I don't make judgements till I hear both sides” I answered “So, tell me what happened.”

“So it fucking -”

“Calmly.”

“It's over. I'm done with her. I have put up with so much shit from her. She treats me like a doormat, and only calls me when she needs something. Well she can go fuck herself” he says pacing around his apartment

“Okay, what exactly happened?”

“She gave the money back. Asked me to pay for us. She ignored everything I told her. All because she didn't want to sign some worthless bit of paper. Now I can't go to Moscow with her. Fine, she clearly didn't want me with her anyway.”

“Alright, and you told her?”

“I told her not to call me again. She wants to do this on her own fine. She can. She won't hear a word from me, but she can fuck off if she wants anything.”

“You've been ignoring calls?”

“I didn't exactly feel like talking right now”

“Alright, go get changed and I'll make you some tea”

“I don't -”

“Benny. Don't make me bonk you with a spoon”

“Fine I will get changed” he sighed going to his room “and make coffee.”

“No tea. Coffee will keep you up and you do not need more energy right now” I explained going and making some nice tea one for me and one for Benny taking and sitting them both on the small table in the centre of the living space, as well as a glass of water I took a small dustpan and brush from the cabinet and cleaned up the broken glass from the bottle as well as any other little mess that littered the apartment. I went to the small record player beside the chair and for a moment flipped through his small collection grabbing a nice album of some gentle swing music adding it to the player letting it spin and turning it down to almost nothing, and I took a seat on the pile of pillows he used as a sofa. Soon enough he returned with a fresh set of clothes, some new jeans, a black T-shirt and his green button-down

“There you feel a little better now?”

“It is nice to have some fresh clothes on” he grunted back

“Come on” I offered patting the pillow beside me

“I'm not in the mood y/n”

“Benny. Come here.”

He rolled his eyes but came and sat beside me still as angry and frustrated as before leaning his head against the exposed bricks

“Good, now when did you last drink something?”

“I'm not thirsty”

“Did I ask that?”

“No”

“When did you last drink something? You're only going to give yourself a headache” I told him, offering him the water but he turned away “Hydrate. Or I will hit you with a spoon”

He took the glass and had a sizable sip

“Thank you, now come here and talk it out”

“Y/n I know you mean well but I’m-”

“I will get the spoon in a minute.” I warn “Come” I demanded patting my thigh

He rolled his eyes but leant over so I wrapped my arms around him letting him lay his head in my lap “I don't see how this is going to help”

“You need to acknowledge and work through your feelings”

“I don't have feelings. I'm a man.”

“Ohh no you don't have feelings. That's why you've been spending your days in a dark basement drinking like a fish and frustrated smoking. No feelings at all” I smiled gently petting his soft fluffy hair

“I don't need to work through my feelings.”

“Yes, you do. Otherwise, you're just going to be angry forever. And god knows I can't deal with that” I laughed

“Fine” he sighed

“Take a moment just to clear the brain” I smiled playing with his hair in all the usual spots he liked me too

“My brain doesn’t clear.”

“Then hyperfocus. On the ticking of the clock, the nice gentle music, clear the mind of all other things and just exist for a moment”

We sat for a few moments just enjoying the quiet of his basement, the gentle hum of the music and the rhythm of our breaths

“Okay” He nods sounding far calmer than before

“That help?”

“A little”

“Okay do a Big breath in.”

“Why do I-”

“Benny” I warned so he did as I asked “Big breath in. And back out. Another one in… and another out. Okay? Feel a little better?” I smiled walking him through it a few times

“A bit”

“Are you calmer?”

“Somewhat”

“So, tell me what happened”

“You going to tell me when I’m wrong?”

“No. I'm not going to say anything you just explain and I will listen.”

“I try asking her for months to come up to New York, actually spend some time together, no she's busy she needs to do this, she needs to do that, she ghosts me for six months, okay I try asking to go to Paris with her support her with the tournament, no she's going on her own, she can't afford to take me too, so fine she goes on her own only when she's fucked herself up so bad she looses her tournament and has headlines everywhere she was drunk as a sailor then! I got a call. I try to be supportive and offer to pick her up from the airport. No, she wants to be alone. I try to talk her through everything and offer her a safe space, so we can be together and work stuff out, no she wants to be alone. She wants to drink. Fine, I try! I try and say she can drink so long as she came here no she wants to go and get drunk. She goes home to Kentucky and ghosts me again. She calls me finally because she wants my advice and again I try to get her to come here, I try and be nice hell I told her I fucking missed her nope she wants to stay on her own meaning she wants to fucking drink. And again I'm ghosted. She completely ignores what I tell her to do. She gives the church their money and calls me up like I'm the problem! Like I haven't spent the last year waiting for your phone calls like some abandoned puppy! Says she's paying her own way to Moscow and can't afford to take me with her, if I wanna come I need to pay, when she knows full well I don't have two thousand dollars laying around to jet off to Moscow. Accused me of gambling it all away. So fuck it. Fuck her. She wants to go and her drunk and fuck her life up that's her decision she's not taking me down with her. I'm not staying as her fucking doormat fuck to treat her how she wants. If she'd rather get drunk than be with me fine I hope she and her bottle are happy”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“Benny, feelings are not shit. use your words. Not just your swears.”

“Like… why should I bother you know? Like I'm trying so so much and you're giving absolutely nothing back. And that makes me feel like I'm the asshole for wanting anything”

“You're not an asshole for wanting acknowledgement Benny. You've done a lot for Beth and it's not easy for you to be emotionally numerable”

“Exactly! It's like you bare your fucking soul to someone and their response is okay cool. What else? Like I don't know what more you want from me. Am I being a dick? Asking for too much or something?”

“I don't think so, I do think you also need to respect Beth is also not an emotional person. The two of you aren't going to have a great emotional conversation because neither of you are good emotional communicators and that's fine some people aren't, but it would seem you are putting a lot of effort in, now Beth may not see it as a lot of effort in her mind and may not be seeing how much effort that Is for you and not appreciate it as much or it could be that she just expects more. and if you can't give her that then you can't there's nothing wrong with that Benny”

“Do you think I'm an emotionally distant person?”

“You can be. You're… very practical Benny. You're emotional to the extent of practically, when emotions aren't useful you don't bother to express them. But I do think you not in the wrong here you've made a lot of moves to be more outwardly expressive and it was clear you were upset long before this” I explained “I think, and of course, you don't need to take my advice. But I think you and Beth need time apart I think you both need to not see one another, not speak to one another, for a couple of weeks I think you both need to separately decide the kind of relationship you want together. If you want to have the kind of relationship where you call every other day and talk or if you want a relationship where you talk every six months how much emotional investment you each have needs to be equal and it clearly isn't so I think spend time apart to think and when she gets back from Moscow you two need to talk and see where you go from here.”

“... Your right.” He sighed sitting up “Where did you learn all this stuff anyway?” He asks having some tea

“Therapy. You know that thing I keep telling you to go to”

“I don't need therapy”

“Everyone needs therapy, Benny.”

“I don’t”

“Yes, you do.” I told him “You have a lot of untapped emotional issues rattling around in that big head of yours” I told him having some tea “And I’m boarder line convinced you have… some type of-”

“No I don’t” he snapped

“Benny you hyperfocus on chess, don’t understand your own emotions, freak out when someone tries to touch your skin, and use your rings like fidget toys… and you don’t think there might be a possibility you could have some form of -”

“No.”

“Fine, fine. I’m not going to argue with you” I giggled “You should go to therapy though Benny.”

“Ohh what because I have ‘emotional trauma’?”

“Yes. you do.” I told him “Even if it's just having someone to talk to, to rant about your problems”

“That's why I have you”

“I'm not your therapist Benny”

“Sorry”

“It's fine” I smiled pressing a kiss to the top of his head “You really liked her didn't you?”

“I did. I kinda thought we were the same. Maybe we're too much alike”

“Do you think maybe… you're seeing the bad things in Beth that you see in yourself?”

“Kinda. I think it's … made me realize how bad it is to be on that side of it. To be the one waiting by the phone on the promise of a call that never comes. I think I'm .. trying though. I can see how bad it is and in trying to fix it but just feels like bailing a bucket out a lake”

“Well, baby steps. Just the fact you see it and are making steps is still better. You're never going to bail the lake if you don't start with a bucket”

“I guess so. It makes me wonder… how she sees me. I know officially we didn't label anything but, I kinda think she just saw me as a chessboard that could make her cum”

“What did you want her to be?”

“....I don't know. Guess I wanted someone to call. Someone to spend time with. Someone who wants to talk to me. Listens to me. Makes me feel like what I say makes a difference. Like I Matter to them. Someone who gets excited about spending time with me, who wants to be with me not because we might play chess or we might have sex but just because we like being together”

“You ever tell her that?”

“No.”

“Then … you can't expect her to give you that Benny. She's not a mind reader. She doesn't know that's what you want same as you don't know what she wants. You two are both people not great at emotions be the best course is to straight forward sit her down and say that's what you want and if that's not what she wants you can either try to find a middle ground or that can be it”

“Your right. But I don't want to see her. Or talk to her. I don't completely want to think about her but there's no getting out of that” he explained lighting another cigarette “But I'm done. Unless she's willing to try I don't want anything more than to be her friend”

“If that's what you want. That's what you want” I smiled taking the cigarette from him putting it out in the table’s ashtray “You’re not smoking because you want it you smoking because your frustrated.” I laughed

“Your therapist tell you that too?”

“No. I just know you, Benny. Besides you’ve been doing really good. Don’t destroy all your progress just because you’re mad” I told him

“You rather I drink?”

“I’d rather you have healthy coping mechanisms but you know… baby steps.” I smiled “You feel a bit better? Got all that off your chest?”

“Yeah. Thanks y/n.”

“Your welcome” I smirked having some tea “It's kinda funny”

“What is?”

“That's exactly what I wanted. Back when we …”

“Really?” He asks

“Yeah. I'd have killed for you to want to spend time with me without it seeming like I was dragging you away from something you wanted to do more”

“.... Fuck. I was a dick.”

“You kinda were.” I laughed “But we wanted different things that's okay”

“I feel like shit. Maybe things would be different if I figured out this is what I wanted”

“Maybe” I shrug “But you didn’t want that then that’s fine you can change your mind as life changes, that wasn’t the sort of thing you wanted then”

“You’re a very emotional person. I think I struggled with that”

“I can be… overly emotional. In working on it. Trying not to overthink everything so much.” I said “How do you think it felt for me sitting here miles deep in overthinking as to why you weren’t talking to me, that you were mad, that I did something wrong, all the while you just sat there playing chess completely unaware I was even upset being quiet because… you like to sit quietly.”

“I saw you were upset… when it was too late. By the time I picked up on it you crying so far down an emotional rabbit hole even if I did know How to deal with it, it was kinda too late”

“And yes that is on you for not noticing my emotions but also on me for not being clearer with them, literally could have fixed all my overthinking with, Benny are you mad at me? But no I wanted to sit there pouting getting more and more anxious waiting for you to figure out that I was worried.”

“I always felt like a dick for asking you what was wrong,”

“Because I wanted you to pick up on it. I didn’t want to tell you I just wanted you to pick up and fix it. And that's on me. That was my issue and I’m getting better. Can’t expect people to know everything. But you're getting better too, learning when people are upset being more outwardly emotional if you need a little coaxing.”

“Or threatening”

“Everyone is different Benny. The sooner you realize that the easier life is. Everyone you speak to, and everyone you see is completely different we all think differently, behave differently, and have different responses to things, and no one can read minds. We all need to give each other a little more slack because we don't know what's going on in their head and they'll never know what's happening in ours. Some people can read emotions across your face like a book, some people need to be told or they'll never learn. I was an emotionally overthinking young woman craving emotional intimacy without having to ask for it. While being in a non-official relationship with a man who can't read emotions, has a hard time expressing his feelings and craves reassurance. On top of the very basic one, what's to fuck one wants to love problem. You surprised it went south?”

“I crave reassurance?”

“Benny. You're a chess player who dresses like a goth pirate.”

“Point taken”

“It's fine people grow and change neither of us are the people we were then”

“That's true” he nods “Can I get the number for your therapist?”

“Why?”

“He sounds good. The fact you rattled all that off is pretty impressive”

“Find your own therapist. Don't want conflicts of interest”

For a moment he was puzzled “You talk about me in therapy?”

“Yeah”

“God was I that much of a cunt?”

“No. You’re my friend. Our lives are very intertwined is all” I laughed leaning on his shoulder

“that’s fair” he laughed “... Do you think I ask for too much? With Beth?”

“I think… you ask for more than she's comfortable with. Let's face it Benny your fighting against an addiction. You might have an ego and you might love chess but you're not physically addicted to it”

“I just feel like in trying so hard, pushing myself so far beyond what I'd normally be comfortable with the least she can do is try”

“if that's how you feel. Then I think she should respond to that”

“I'm not a dick?”

“I don't think so” I smiled

“Thanks y/n. I'm really thankful you came over”

“Well I can't just leave you someone has to try and get you through these gross… feelings you're not used to”

“Can you stay?”

“What?”

“Can you stay? I don't think I wanna be on my own tonight”

“Of course Benny”

We stayed up a little long chatting about things but soon it came time for bed he put up the air bed for himself and I took his bed even if I argued but he let me have it.

I changed borrowing one of his shirts for the night getting cosy in the warm bed.

The lights out the only sound the occasional sound of the New York cars above the basement.

I was about to drift off when I perked up hearing the creek of the door and soon enough the covers moved and Benny crawled in with me

“Hi”

“Did you want your own bed back?”

“No, I just… I don't wanna be alone right now” he says slowly wrapping his arms around me and pulling me tight to his body my hips to his my back to his chest squeezing me almost like I was his teddy bear

“Okay Benny, you don't need to worry I'll be right here,” I reassured letting him squeeze me tightly to his body, he held me tight pressing his lips to my shoulder

“Can I get my anger out?” He asked

“Alright” I nodded

He moved and pushed me down on my back “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” I nodded

He nodded and leant down to nibble and kiss my neck, before he pulled down his boxers and tugged off my panties, he started off gently slipping himself inside me he held my hips firmly digging his nails into my skin as he aggressively thrusted, often bitting his lips and gritting his teeth letting out his frustration and anger though the movement of his hips. He began to slow so I smiled and held his hips gently turning us so he laid on his back and I sat on top of him gently moving my hips slowly “Reveling in your anger is not going to make you feel better” I smiled stroking his stomach as I moved

“I know. I just wanted to get the anger out” he sighed moving his hips with me

“Wouldn’t this be nicer?”

“It is much nicer.” he smiled “Nice and calming” He cooed sitting up a little and wrapping his arms around me to pull me into his chest for an intense kiss I smiled into the kiss as I moved my hips faster trying to match his own speed getting more and more intense the longer it went on I knew I was close starting to nibble on his neck as I began to slow getting close to my edge he noticed and smirked making sure to work as hard as he could letting out the last of his frustration until I reached my peak biting his neck as I did which in turn got him to his own edge burying himself deep inside me and riding it out before he collapsed against the bed and I basically fell off onto the other side

“Feel better now Benny?”

“Yeah” he nods between gasps “That is way better than therapy”

“They're not mutually exclusive Benny.”

“I still think this is better”

“You can’t just ignore your feelings and deal with your frustrations through sex” I told him

He smirked and turned over to spoon me “Did it work?”

“...yes but?”

“Did it work?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'm gonna do it” he shrugs

“Alright Benny, if that’s how you wanna deal with your feelings” I laughed “Come on, let's get some sleep”

“Alright, Night”

“Night” I smiled giving him a little kiss before we cuddled up and drifted off to sleep.

I yawned as I woke up I gently pushed Benny’s arms off me climbed out the bed and headed across the apartment, I went to the kitchen and began to make coffee humming to myself a little.

“Morning,” Benny spoke up from the bedroom door

“Morning, How are you feeling today?”

“Better. Much better” he smiled coming and wrapping his arms around me giving my neck some kisses “You always make me feel better”

“I do?”

“You do. I’m sorry”

“For what?”

“For being a dick, when we…” he began “I realize it and I’m sorry”

“That's very sweet. Apology accepted. I’m sorry for how I was too”

“Apology accepted” he smiled

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the shit from Beth”

“It’s fine. I know how to deal with it”

“Oh?”

“She can find another doormat. She wants to drink and wants to go on her own she can. I don’t want that. We can be friends if she wants but nothing more than that. I don’t feel like I want anything more”

“Okay. I’m proud of you, for expressing your feelings” I smiled

“Did you wanna stay for a while? Spend some time together?”

“Is that also part of you dealing with this?” I giggled turning to face him

“Kinda. But Now I know what you wanted. And I want that too. Maybe now we're a little older we’ll be better, more communicative, better with our feelings. So? Did you wanna try again?”

“On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“Go to therapy, Benny.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“How much therapy?”

“How about one session, one date.”

“Three dates one session”

“Two.” “Deal” he smiled pulling me into a sweet kiss “Will you help me find one?”

“Yes, I will.” I giggled “Come on we’ll have coffee and a cuddle”

“Sounds perfect”

#tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #benny smut #benny fanfic #benny #benny watts #benny watts smut #tqg benny watts #benny watts imagine #bennywattssmut

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bodyelectr1c · 9 months ago

Text

keep talkin’

austin butler as benny cross

just smut, no plot

i love benny, i was enamoured in the cinema

warnings: degradation, rough sex, possessiveness, a little overstim if you squint, not proofread, dirty talk

no spoilers for the bikeriders movie :)

benny cross wasn’t much of a talker

from the day you’d met him, he always let you do the talking. he’d let you go on and on without more than a few words, and you didn’t mind it, and clearly, nor did he.

but when it came to sex, benny cross talked.

talked you through your orgasm, talked dirty to you, degraded you, the whole lot. his voice was deep and rough during sex, a result of the years of smoking and riding, and he took the utmost advantage of this.

from the first time he claimed you, bullied his fat cock into you, saw how you reacted when he talked down to you, told you how much of a slut you were, how tight you were, writhing and babbling on his cock while he split you open, he knew he had found his favorite game.

benny reveled in it, got off on it, honestly. the way you melted under his words, in the way your body betrayed your mind's resistance, the way you’d squirm and try to stifle your moans, trying to hide the way his degradation turned you on.

"look at you," he'd tsk, feigning disapproval “fucking desperate for my cock. you need it, don’t you baby?” his grip punishing on your hips, forcing you to take every inch. "such a needy little slut, can't get enough of my cock, can you? always so tight for me, always so wet."

with benny, every thrust was deliberate, each stroke accompanied by a litany of degrading affirmations. "you love this, don't you? being my fuck toy, my little whore. look at how you're dripping for me. pathetic." he’d spit out between ragged moans

you'd gasp, the shame mixing with pleasure, making your body respond even more fervently to his rough handling. he'd grab your hair in fistfuls, pull your head back, making sure you saw the depravity in your own eyes reflected in the mirror.

"fuck- cmon, take it all, you fucking minx. you were made for this, weren't you? for me, to be used, to be filled up with my cum. fucking say it." he’d prompt you as he jackhammered the fat head of his cock further in you, smacking against your cervix repeatedly with a squelching sound.

and you would, because he made you, because his voice alone made you almost cum on the spot.

because the power in his voice left no room for anything else but obedience.

"yes, benny, fuck- ‘m yours, need your cock, need to get fucked, love your cock, please cum in me, pleasepleaseplease." you barely even knew what you were saying, you just knew you needed him, needed what he could give you.

he’d let out a loud, deep moan, music to your fucking ears, the sound sent shivers down your spine even as your body betrayed you again, arching into his touch, seeking more.

he'd smack your ass, hard, leaving his mark on you as a reminder of who you belonged to, relishing in your screams.

"that's right. you’re mine. no one else can fuck you like this, stuff their cock so deep in you, make you forget your own name. no one else can make you cum like i do.” his voice would begin breaking, his moans choked as he neared the edge. “cmon baby, cum on my cock, cum for me, m so close. don’t- fuck, don’t forget this feeling baby. don’t forget how good i stretch you, fill you. you feel full baby? stuffed?”

all you could do was nod, frantically as your thighs shook and your orgasm washed over you, and despite all he’d say, benny would hold you close, soothe your body through the orgasm as it wracked through you, whispering praises and endless filthy words into your ear.

"that's my good girl, my perfect little slut. look at you, falling apart for me, taking every inch like you were made for it."

he'd hold you tighter, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate, each one fucking you further into the mattress, fucking deeper into your already overstimulated cunt. his big, rough hands, callused from years on the bike, would wander over your body, leaving eventual bruises and marks in their wake, reminding you of your place, of his dominance.

"fuck, baby," he'd groan, the desperation in his voice eminent. "'m gonna fill you up, gonna pump you full of my cum. you want that, hm? want me to cum in your pretty cunt, baby?"

you'd nod, barely coherent, lost in the haze of pleasure and degradation, along with the comedown of your high. "yes, benny, please. need it, need you s’ bad."

his grip would tighten impossibly more, breath hot against your neck as he thrust deeper, harder, faster, driving himself to the brink.

"take it all, baby. so good for me, gonna mark you as mine."

with a final, guttural growl, benny would bury himself to the hilt, body shuddering as he came, flooding you with his release. the feeling of him pulsing inside you would trigger another wave of pleasure, leaving you trembling and spent beneath him.

benny would never let you go immediately.

he'd stay buried deep inside you, breathing heavy, his hands still possessive on your skin. he'd savor the moment, the way your body molded to his, the way you fit him perfectly.

"good girl," he'd murmur, his voice softer now. "you did so good for me. you’re perfect baby,” he’d punctuate his sentence with a soft kiss to your lips, before pulling out, exuding another moan from you.

he’d smirk, rolling over to the bedside table, already reaching for a cigarette.

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #elvis presley #austin!elvis x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #benny cross #benny cross smut #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders #the bikeriders smut

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zepskies · 18 days ago

Text

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

AN: Deep breaths Are you ready for a rollercoaster of emotions? 😘❤️

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” and “It’s Now or Never” by Elvis

Word Count: 13.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, pregnancy feels, hurt/comfort, fluff, time jumps and flashbacks, sexual tension, mutual pining, spice~, and an ending…

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

At the doctor’s office, Dean goes in with you for the first trimester ultrasound. There you learn that you’re going to have a boy. Tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheeks.

Dean wears a look of amazement as he sits on the edge of your bed. He takes up your hand and squeezes gently. He tries to be a strong support, even though he also tries to hide the fear that begins to churn in his gut.

For one of the first times in his life since Sam was born, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. In a good way. In a fucking scary way.

He looks at you and sees the wonder written across your face while you watch the tiny shape of your baby on the screen. His heartbeat thwaps fast and loud in the speakers.

Dean realizes something else then; the decision you're making is changing the course of your whole damn life…and it’s his fault.

With his weekly hookup rate, in the very back shelves of his mind he knew something like this could happen, even though he thought he'd been careful. (Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.) But here, in this white wall-to-wall room that smells like hospital antiseptic, that thwap thwap thwap of a heartbeat reverberating in his ears, the reality of this is crashing hard on his shoulders and rattling down to the base of his spine.

Despite his earlier happiness, those thoughts stay with him when you two eventually get back into his car. You have the pictures of the sonogram in your hands. You smile down at them before you put them back in your purse for safekeeping.

However, you notice Dean’s sudden melancholy as he stares out at the road. He’s started the car, but he hasn’t moved to pull out of the parking lot yet.

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you, incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours and achingly familiar. But ultimately, it’s chaste. He pulls away and settles back in his seat.

When you blink your eyes back open, your expression is slack in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

After a moment, you smile at him. It’s warm and almost shy.

Dean clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face is heating up. He doesn’t say anything more. He just takes the wheel and shifts gears, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

You don’t know what possesses you to bake cookies. Dozens and dozens of them, all the chocolate chip cookie recipes you can find. You’re in search of the perfect one. This will be the recipe your son will grow up on, and every time he eats them, he’ll remember how much you loved him.

And then, he’ll be ruined for any other chocolate chip cookies that try to grab his taste buds. He’ll say, Blech. Chips Ahoy? These aren’t as good as Mom makes!

…Or something like that.

Yes, these cookies have to be perfect. You’ll even write the ingredients down on a notecard and hide it away, and it’ll become your family secret recipe.

Once you feel like your cookie game is strong enough, you decide to test these babies out. You bring two dozen painstakingly baked confections to Firehouse 83, where Dean works. The man is a bottomless pit, to be sure, but you also want other people’s unbiased opinions. For science.

You park your car on the side of the road, making sure you’re not blocking the driveway where two huge fire trucks are parked. You head inside the firehouse with your big container under your arm and your purse on the other. Now at seven months into your pregnancy, you’ve gotten to the embarrassing “waddle” stage.

You’re still determined to be active though! You plan to keep working until you have the baby. Your parents live a few hours away, but you’re grateful that they want to help out as much as possible.

Even though they weren’t happy to hear about how you got pregnant, by now they've met Dean and begrudgingly admitted to liking him. He's really stepped up to the responsibility of a future father, insisting on baby-proofing your apartment, helping you shop for the essentials, and going with you to as many doctor’s appointments as he can. He’s even agreed to giving you child support payments, even though you hadn’t wanted to ask for it.

You look for him now as you enter the firehouse, trying to push the heavy glass door open with one hand.

“Here, I got you,” says a familiar baritone voice.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the man who helps you inside.

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, been…a while,” he chuckles, glancing down at the swell of your belly, but he squeezes your shoulder and leans in to hug you gently.

“Dean filled you in?” you ask. You hope so. Having to explain the story to one of his own friends would be embarrassing, especially since this is the man you walked in Sam’s wedding with. It reminds you of that day, and the way you told Dean that news in a glorified closet, with shaking hands and the wrong kind of butterflies.

Thankfully, Benny nods. “That he did…but come on, I’ll show you around. And I see you’ve brought somethin’ special for us?”

He gestures at the container you're holding and offers to take it off your hands. You give it to him, grateful for the help.

“Yeah, and I want you guys to give me your honest opinion.”

Benny tosses you a wink and a smile. “That I can do.”

Your cheeks begin to warm in a blush, but the way he helps you to a comfy couch in the common room earns your smile. There are still good men left in this world, and you’re glad to know that Dean works so well with one.

“You want some coffee, or water? Think we might have some lemonade,” Benny says.

“Water would be great, thank you,” you reply, as you rub your belly. The little man has decided to kick at your liver today. “I stopped drinking coffee for the baby. ”

It's your biggest challenge, to be honest. Try wrangling a group of fifteen to twenty six-year-olds while running on green tea, the fumes of sleep deprivation, reduced bladder control, and as much vim as you can muster.

“Ah, right,” Benny nods. “My sister has two kids. She cut out coffee, pain meds, some dairy stuff. But she claimed cheesecake was all right, ‘cause it’s got cake in the name.”

You giggle. “I see no flaw in her logic.”

Down the hall of the firehouse, Dean is just coming back in from going through a set of drills. He’s still the Candidate—the freshest blood in the house—so they’ve been putting him through his paces for the past several months. He’s eager to learn and to prove himself.

His ears perk up in confusion though. Did he just hear your voice?

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

When he rounds the corner, he sees you in the common room, smiling and giggling like a teenager at something Benny said to you while he eats a soft baked cookie right out of a Tupperware container. You must’ve brought it for the firehouse.

This cozy little scene kind of annoys Dean somehow, though he doesn’t know why. He does know that it shouldn’t.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile. It becomes easier when you look his way, your eyes brightening at his arrival.

“There you are! Come ‘ere and try these,” you say, pointing at the box Benny holds. “Tell me if our son’s going to have the best PTA mom ever.”

Dean can’t help but grin after trying a big bite of one of your cookies.

“Oh, mah Gah,” he says, holding a hand under his mouth so nothing comes crumbling out.

“Good?” you ask.

“Good friggin’ cookie,” he confirms, after he swallows. “You’re gonna have the other parents frothing at the mouth. Who’s gonna be able to compete with this?”

Benny nods in agreement. When Dean squeezes your shoulder, your sweet, happy smile makes him smile too.

She’s going to be a good mom, he thinks. He can only hope against hope that he can be the man his son needs.

Two months later, the time has finally come. Your water breaks when you’re in the middle of teaching your second graders how to spell exaggerate—and no, Joey, it’s not e-g-g-zagerate.

However, the embarrassment of him pointing out the fluid beginning to stain your slacks is swiftly cut off by your shock. Your first call is to the principal, to have her send someone to cover your class. Your next call is to Dean, telling him to meet you at the hospital.

“Why the hell did he have to bring her,” you mutter to yourself, wiping sweat from your brow. Here you are, gritting your teeth through contraction after contraction in this damn hospital bed, and Dean is outside the room talking to Lisa.

You know you have no real reason to be upset. She’s been trying her best to be your friend in recent months. Hell, she helped Eileen and your mom plan your baby shower. She even brought you flowers when she got to the hospital, but you notice how less than five minutes after she got here, she and Dean became embroiled in yet another argument. It seems to you that all they do is argue, break up for a week or two, and then get back together again.

The sex must be explosive, like the fireworks at goddamn Disney World.

But Dean eventually does come back into the room alone. His support grounds you over the next few hours. He lets you basically break his hand, all while he gives you encouragement (and stands by your shoulder, so he doesn’t see anything you’d rather him not see).

And then, your son is born. Every muscle, every cell in your body is exhausted, but the pain meds have kicked in, and you’re in that blissed out state between abject reality and being entirely entranced by the bundle in your arms. His perfect face is just there, sleeping for the moment after the nurses taught you how to breastfeed.

Dean returns to sit in the chair beside you. He gives you some water and a piece of a protein bar. You’re not that hungry, but he pointed out that you haven’t eaten since before your water broke.

“Sam and Eileen are on their way up,” he says.

You nod in reply. You’re too into your son right now to think of anything else.

Dean shakes his head in wonder as he reaches out with a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over the baby’s downy head. He was born with a little tuft of brown hair.

“Okay, down to business,” Dean says, shooting you a playful look. “I vote for Zeppelin.”

You groan. “Dean, no. Veto. I’m not naming my son after a rock band.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

“Veto,” he snorts. You two agreed to getting five “vetos” each, but this discussion has been more like a battle of wills over the last several months.

“Okay, what about Daniel? That’s strong, classic,” you pose.

Dean considers it with a tilt of his head. “All right, that one’s a maybe.”

Again, he strokes the baby’s soft cheek. You look over at Dean with a small smile.

“You’re going to be a good dad, you know,” you tell him. It earns his gaze. Although he’s trying to stay strong, you read the hidden insecurity there, the worry and fear. You rest a hand on his arm. “You are, Dean. You’re a good man, and you’ve really stepped up these past few months. This obviously isn’t how either of us thought our lives would go, but if this had to happen with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Dean’s expression softens. He hesitates, but he lays a hand over yours and squeezes gently.

“Thanks,” he says.

Your eyes meet, and it’s a moment charged with something you can’t even name. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this feeling with him. It both fills your heart with warmth, and makes you ache.

Then the door opens. It’s Lisa, Sam, and Eileen. Dean’s hand slips away from yours as they all pour in to congratulate you and Dean, and of course, meet the baby. There’s a lot of soft cooing and playful shushing.

In that small chaos, your parents call to tell you that they’re finally almost here. It really sucked not having your mom with you, but your parents live far enough away that they were going to take a train and stay with you for at least a week. Their train unfortunately got delayed due to mechanical failure.

It's okay though. Getting through the past several hours has made you realize that you’re stronger and more capable than you think, and even though part of you is still scared to death, you don’t need a husband to be a good mom. You’re going to give this your all, no matter who’s beside you…

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room. He saw how her “helpful” suggestion to have a get-together at their apartment to celebrate the baby’s birth was setting you on edge. Really, you just want to sleep for the next 24-hours and not have any more pictures of you taken.

It gets loud enough outside your hospital room that Sam and Eileen feel they have to intervene. Lisa is Eileen’s best friend, and she’s the best equipped to try and deescalate the argument from that end, while Sam deals with Dean. It’s messy, it’s irritating, and it means that even today, you can’t just have a little bit of peace.

You sigh and cradle your still nameless baby close to your chest. He’s all that matters. Already, your heart is so damn full just taking him in.

“What’s your name, my little love?” you whisper. “What am I going to write on your certificate, besides Winchester?”

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

You perk up and smile in surprise. “Benny, hey.”

He greets you with a slightly hesitant kiss on the cheek. He’s brought the baby an adorable teddy bear, and you a beautiful bouquet of white and blue roses, along with a box of chocolates.

“It’s the assorted kind, but they’ve got plenty of the caramel ones you like,” he says, then gazes down at the baby. “Aw, he’s a little charmer. Already got more of you than Dean, that’s for sure.”

You laugh lightly at his teasing. “I don’t know about that.” You hope your son inherits Dean’s strong jaw, and his green eyes.

Benny scratches the back of his head. “Also…sorry if I’m crossing some kind of boundary here. Looks like it’s a bit of a circus outside.”

You shake your head and smile through burgeoning tears. You set the chocolates on the end table where he’s placed the flowers and the teddy bear.

“No, it’s very sweet. Thank you,” you say. You glance out the window of your room to the hallway, where the arguing between Dean, Lisa, Sam, and Eileen seems to finally be calming down. You’re so damn tired, you don’t give a crap about whatever they’re hashing out now.

You look down at your son, and despite your strong thoughts earlier, insecurity begins to creep back into your mind like inky claws.

“How are you holding up?” Benny asks. His face is kind and concerned when he notes the change in you.

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

You look down at your son, and you have to wipe away a tear from your eye before it falls on his face.

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

FIVE YEARS LATER...

For all that changes, there are some things that stay the same.

Dean and Lisa are still the world’s most “off again, on again” couple you’ve ever met. Sam and Eileen are still going strong as the hardworking, driven career couple. Your son is growing more and more every day and just started kindergarten this year.

(You ultimately caved on Dean’s idea to name him Robert, as in Robert Plant, lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)

Oh, yeah, and the “you and Benny” thing? That’s been going well for two years now.

What can you say? The man is persistent, but respectfully so. He’s considerate, reliable, and always calls you when work at the firehouse has him running late.

You haven’t yet invited him to move in with you. That part you’re still hesitant on, mostly because of your son, but Benny helps you drop off Robbie at school and makes breakfast for you all whenever he stays over your apartment. Benny takes an interest in your son’s life and keeps up with all his energy, taking him to the park to run himself ragged before dinner, and helping you tuck him in at night.

Benny is a bit closed off though, the strong stoic type. He’s hard for you to get a read on, and sometimes you wonder if he’s just indulging you when you ramble on about your day or make silly jokes. Even now, sometimes you withhold the first thought that comes to your mind, hoping he doesn’t think you immature or…too much.

But Benny shows his caring in all those little things he does for you. They add up into the big things, and he makes you feel supported. He makes you feel safe.

He even helps you plan your son’s fifth birthday. Robbie wanted to go all out on a dinosaur theme; he’s been hooked on Jurassic Park ever since Benny “accidentally” let him watch it with him on one of your rare nights out with your friends.

So you set up a little party at the park by your apartment. You managed to reserve the biggest gazebo, where there are three picnic tables covered with dinosaur plates, and tablecloths, streamers in different shades of green. You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into. Robbie thinks it’s awesome.

He’s running around on the playground with a few of his friends from school. Their parents (along with Sam, Eileen, and Lisa) are talking amongst themselves at one of the picnic tables while you try to figure out how to get the Bluetooth speaker to connect with your phone.

“Haha! Got it. If you're so smart, Alexa, why don't you connect on the first try?” You fist-pump the air triumphantly, just as Benny comes to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, making you smile.

“How’s it going out there?” you ask, nodding at the kids. Plus Dean, who’s gamely been the one to keep them entertained with different games. Right now, it’s a thrilling game of Cowboys and Outlaws, where Robbie and his friends are the cowboys, and Dean is the outlaw. He’s been hiding under the slide, behind trees and other playground fixtures, while the kids have little squirt guns to pelt him with water every time they find him.

It's pretty damn cute, and you’ve been taking pictures. You smile at the sight of Dean leaping out at Robbie and the kids, catching them off guard.

“You’ll never take me alive, Sheriff!” Dean declares.

“Oh, it’s goin’,” Benny remarks with an amused shake of his head. “Still hard to believe that guy’s about to make it to Lieutenant.”

“Hahaaa, gotcha!!” Dean cackles. He’s grabbed up Robbie and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Robbie screeches with laughter while his dad runs around the playground, being chased by a bunch of five-year-olds with squirt guns.

Your smile threatens to make your cheeks hurt. You know your life is…unconventional, to say the least, but Dean is a good father to your son. He’s also been working hard at his job. He just took the Lieutenant’s test, and even though Benny already occupies that position at Firehouse 83, a spot at another firehouse might open up for Dean to transfer.

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Dean admitted to you last week, while he was working on fixing your stubborn, leaky sink. “All the guys there, they’re like family, you know?” “I understand,” you nodded. “You have to do what feels best for you, whether that’s staying where you feel comfortable, or moving up in your career somewhere else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.” He took in your advice with a slow nod. “Yeah, thanks. Guess I have to time to think about it. Lisa had other ideas.” “Of course,” you said with a smile, but it soon dropped. “Why, what did she say?” “Do what I can to move up,” he sighed. “She’s got a point. That title comes with a pay bump, one I could really use right now.” “I get that. Totally valid,” you said. “But I just think it’s important for you to be happy with it too. Especially with what you do, helping people, saving people…I’d imagine being in the right mindset for all that is important, right? Who you work with can be just as important as the money stuff.” Dean considered you with a smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

As you think about it now, you have to admit that he’s grown up a lot.

Dean has to lean against a tree to catch his breath. Am I already getting too old for this crap?

Feels kind of young to have a stitch in his side after a few rounds with these kids, but even he has his limits. Lisa comes to bring him a bottle of ice-cold water, which he appreciates. He’s tempted to dump it over his head like he does after successfully neutralizing a fire. It gets literally hot as hell under that helmet and mask and all his gear underneath.

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

“Toss in a new pair of knees, thanks,” he wheezes. He downs half the water bottle in one go, but he smiles at seeing his son keep running around with his friends. He’s just got that manic kid energy that goes on for days. But Robbie’s also smart; like Dean, he likes taking things apart and putting them back together in new and ingenious ways.

Dean hopes his son likes the new model car set that’s waiting for him on the picnic table full of presents. In fact, he’s still surprised that you didn’t go with the race car theme he suggested for the party, but apparently, Robbie’s more into dinosaurs now. Dean wishes he knew that before he bought the model car set.

He looks over and catches sight of you and Benny wrapped up in each other. He has his arm around your waist while you fiddle with something, but the way you lean over and whisper near his ear elicits a smile on Benny’s face.

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

“Well, don’t they seem cozy,” he mutters.

Lisa arches a manicured brow. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s getting ready to propose.”

That earns Dean’s attention, his head swiveling back to her in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

“His sister,” she replies. “Meg’s in my intermediate class, remember?”

Dean nods, sipping at his water, even though he’s a bit absent in the eyes. Lisa watches him shrewdly.

“Why do you seem upset about it?” she asks. “Benny’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dean says. He doesn’t need that reminder, or the guilty twinge. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?”

He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.”

“Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Again, Dean nods his acknowledgement. It’s hard for him to believe that so much time has passed already. He honestly didn’t think you and Benny would be together this long. He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with one of his best friends dating you, but you’d seemed happy about it, so he didn’t discourage it. But he’d never been very supportive, either. At least, not about your relationship.

Lisa sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him aside before he can rejoin the party.

“Listen, we need to talk about something,” she says.

Dean restrains a tired groan. “Can this wait ‘til later?”

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

“Speaking of commitment,” she says with a sigh. “I think it’s fair to say that we’ve been on a five-year rollercoaster, you and I. You know why that is?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“It’s because you’re spread too thin,” she says. “Between the firehouse, construction jobs on the side…not to mention other things.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Lisa’s lips purse, before she pointedly gestures over at you with her eyes. “Well, for example. You’re still going to her place after your next shift to fix her fridge, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, should be pretty simple. I’ve just gotta swing by the hardware store and grab this specialty tool I ordered—”

“Dean,” Lisa deadpans. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

She heaves a deep breath, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

“I get that navigating this situation hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, but look.”

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.”

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

“Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

After letting go of his hands, she softens the edges of her words with a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turns to join the group now gathered around the picnic table where the food is, all the kids cheering for pizza and cake.

After the party, Sam, Eileen, Lisa, and Benny pack up their cars and yours with the leftover food, party supplies, and presents. Dean helps you clean up the trash, all while keeping an eye on Robbie getting out the last of his sugar-high on the playground swing.

You shake your head tiredly, if with a fond smile. “That kid’s gonna be up all night hype on that radioactive cake.”

Dean chuckles. “You want me to take him tonight?”

“It’s okay. I think he’s going to want to play with his toys,” you reply.

“Well, he could just as easily do that at my place,” he reasons.

You consider it, but you shake your head. “Yeah, but we got him the bike. He’s probably gonna want to try it out for a few minutes before we get him cleaned up.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Benny,” Dean says, his tone becoming surly. “And about that. Don’t you think a bike is something you should run by me? That’s typically a ‘dad’ kind of gift.”

You pause what you’re doing at the sound of his tone. Your brows knit together.

“Sorry, but I feel like a bike isn’t exclusively a dad thing,” you say.

“My dad got me my first bike,” Dean replies. “Spent a whole three days teaching me how to ride.”

You take a minute to think about it. You understand where Dean’s coming from, so you nod.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be there to help teach Robbie? I’m sure he’d love that.”

Dean tosses a wadded-up ball of frosting-covered napkins and stops, letting his hands fall to his sides in frustration. He draws closer and helps you untie the balloons from the picnic table.

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point,” he says. “Why can’t I take him home tonight?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Well, like I said. The bike—”

“That I should’ve gotten for him,” he snaps. “Which, let me guess, Benny picked out. Right?”

You frown at him in earnest now. “Dean, why are you getting so upset about it? It’s just a bike.”

“Well you know what, it’s not! And it’s not just the damn bike either.” He swipes a hand over his face in annoyance, a telltale sign you’ve come to read well on the man. “Look, I’m missing too much shit, all right? Like, like the dinosaur thing! And the fact that I only get him on the weekends.”

You turn toward him, trying to put a cap on your own annoyance. This isn’t the first time you two have had a conversation like this.

“We’ve gone over this before, Dean. Your schedule at the firehouse is just too unpredictable,” you say. “Robbie needs as much stability as possible between us. But…okay, if you want to take him tonight, that’s fine. We can bring the bike over to your place and show it to him there.”

You’re trying to be as reasonable as possible, and Dean knows that. Still, anger prickles just under his skin, and he can’t help but push his luck.

“You still should’ve asked be before you got the bike in the first place,” he argues.

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, it’s not like we bought him a Honda Civic. Honestly, Dean, why are you picking a fight with me right now?” you ask. “Did you and Lisa get into it again or something?”

Dean looks away and crosses his arms, giving you all the confirmation you need.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod. “I saw you two over there on the playground, looked pretty heated. But do me a favor. Don’t come at me with that energy, because I’m too damn tired of it!”

When you walk away from him, Dean can’t help but stare after you. He knows he fucked that up, just as he knows that you don’t deserve him snapping at you. He’s just too irritated to admit it.

For the entire week that follows, Dean finds himself distracted. He sticks to his word and helps Benny teach his son how to ride a bike in between their shifts at the firehouse, but Dean comes home each night feeling even more frustrated and drained than before. It’s too much, knowing Benny’s slowly but surely carving out a father-figure role in Robbie’s life.

These thoughts follow Dean to work, even while he climbs up the firetruck ladder in the rain. It’s parallel to a busted utility pole that still sparks with electricity, even in this torrential downpour. His task is to get up to the top and grab a large branch that’s tangled in the lines.

Rung after rung, he climbs. His safety mask protects his eyes from the rain, but he wishes they had some mini windshield wipers to keep his vision clear of the droplets pelting him in the face.

He also can’t help thinking of you. If Lisa’s right, then Benny’s about to become a more permanent fixture in Robbie’s life, and yours.

Okay fine. It’s not like Dean expected you to be single forever, but did you really have to get with one of his best friends? Does it really have to be Benny, who seems so natural with Robbie, and more patient than Dean, and more of a support to you and Robbie than Dean can ever be?

And then there’s Lisa’s little ultimatum. He understands why she’s frustrated with him. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s stuck around this long. He knows she’s not going to wait too much longer for him to get his act together. For him to decide, as she put it.

It’s not that he’s not sure about her, it’s just that…

Just that what? he wonders.

He manages to grab the wily tree branch and maneuver it out of the power lines.

He just doesn’t realize that his glove doesn’t have quite enough friction on the metal side panel of the ladder. Not only does his hand slip, but he’s forced to let go of the branch while he loses his balance. The branch falls to the sidewalk, far, far down below.

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

Holding Robbie’s hand tightly in yours is the only thing keeping you steady as you lead him through the hospital. After the receptionist had checked you both in and gave you the room number, you hastened down the hall and up to the right floor. 2005.

Robbie breaks into tears when he finally gets to see his dad, laid up though he is in his hospital bed. Your throat tightens at the sight of Dean hooked up to all those monitors. He has his arm wrapped up and fitted into a sling. He has a thick piece of gauze taped to the side of his face, covering a wide, angry abrasion, but he seems to be resting easy on his back. The bed is at an incline, with most of the overhead lights turned off.

Robbie rushes to the bed before you can stop him. He hesitantly touches Dean’s non-injured right hand. “Daddy?”

“Robbie, wait,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. You quickly go over to the bedside and grab ahold of Robbie’s shoulders, but Dean takes a deep breath. His eyelids crack open.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, attempting a smile. His voice is rough and weak, but at least he’s awake.

Robbie’s lower lip wobbles as tears fill his eyes again.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says, a little stronger. When he reaches out to his son, the kid hops up onto the bed and buries his face into his father’s chest. Dean holds him as securely as he can, soothing his hand over the boy’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay, little man. ‘M okay,” he promises. Robbie nods, but he still continues to cry.

You can’t help but do the same. Tears slip down your cheeks without your consent. Dean beckons you over too, gesturing with his chin and a slight smile. You’re more tentative in the way you sit down at the edge of his bed. You run your fingers through Robbie’s light brown hair to help reassure him. Then, you meet Dean’s gaze and lay a hand on his good shoulder. You don’t know whether you’re steadying him, or yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask. “The hospital called me. Benny told me what happened.”

The thought reminds you to text your boyfriend. You hadn’t had a chance to tell him you made it here yet. He must be downstairs grabbing a bite to eat, because he’s the one who rode with Dean in the ambulance and has been with him for a while.

“The hospital called you?” Dean notes in slight confusion.

“Eileen told me that Sam is in court right now, so I must’ve been next on the list,” you say. He also must have taken Lisa off his emergency list the last time they broke up for almost a month. He probably forgot to update it again.

You reach out a hand to almost touch the bandage by his temple. Instead, you hesitantly hold the side of his face to see the area better. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. You can see he’s in pain. Your hand lingers on his cheek, but you know, deep down, that it shouldn’t.

Dean doesn’t stop you though. He lets out a deep breath, savoring how nice the gentle touch feels when the rest of his body feels battered to hell.

“Fell off the ladder. Was a stupid rookie move,” he explains, but when he sees that look on your face, he tries to inject a little more joking into a smile. “S’ not so bad.”

“You could’ve broken your head as well as your arm,” you say, more sharply than you mean to.

Robbie whimpers and clings tighter to Dean. You cover your mouth, as if you can trap the words back inside. You don’t want to upset your son more than he already is, so you fall silent. Another tear works its way down your cheek, but you brush it away. Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he reassures you too. He manages to smile as he pats Robbie’s back. “Right, buddy?”

The boy’s head perks up. His eyes are still shiny, but he smiles too. He’s not one to speak when he’s upset though, so he just curls up against Dean’s chest and hangs onto him. Dean rests his good arm snugly around him.

You smile and stroke Robbie’s back. Though your hand lowers, resting on Dean’s hand. You take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Dean’s fingers curl around yours, prompting you to glance up into his eyes. The way he’s watching you is soft, grateful.

Until the door creaks open. Benny steps in with a subtle clearing of his throat. You jolt internally, and you slip your hand away from Dean’s. You offer your boyfriend a wan smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, baby.” He comes over and greets you with a kiss to the side of your head. He smiles at your son gently. “The gang’s all here.”

“Oh! Let me call Sam, and Lisa too. They still don’t know what’s going on,” you say. You get up from the bed to grab your phone out of your purse. Dean nods in agreement and thanks you, while Robbie plays with his dad's long fingers.

“How you holdin’ up, brother?” Benny asks, after you step out of the room. He settles into the chair near the foot of the bed.

“Ah, you know me. I’m like a cat. Always stick the landing,” Dean says, smiling lazily. The morphine is starting to kick in again.

Benny smirks. “Maybe you do got nine lives, the amount of close calls you like gettin’ yourself into.”

Dean’s good humor fades. He considers his son in his arms, and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, no more,” he says. He got a taste of what it would be like to leave his boy behind, and he’s not fucking doing it. He’s not leaving you to raise Robbie by yourself. The mere idea tears a new hole in his heart.

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

When Lisa steps off the hospital elevator on the second floor, you happen to be coming out of the bathroom to fix your racoon eyes. You’ve been crying way too much. You attempt to greet Lisa with something reassuring, but she cuts you off.

“What happened, and why didn’t the hospital call me directly?” she asks.

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

“Well, Sam and I were listed as his emergency contacts—”

“Why?” she snaps. “You’re not his wife or his girlfriend. I should’ve been listed.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you can’t help it. You’re too tired and emotionally drained to lasso in your temper with this woman.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.”

Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?”

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause as her words seep into your mind. She might actually have a small point about that one. You realize then just how often you’ve been asking Dean for his help, not just with your apartment, but with your car, and other logistical things that usually have to with Robbie. Dean’s just such a good handyman, and you thought he genuinely liked being able to help…even though Benny did mention once or twice that he’d be just as happy to help you.

“Lisa, this is a lot more than a leaky sink. I just wanted to get here with Robbie and make sure Dean was okay,” you try to explain.

“Good. I’m glad his son was the first person Dean got to see when he woke up,” Lisa says. “But I should’ve been the second.”

She brushes past you before you can even think of what to say. You’re in a state of shock, feeling guilty, incensed, and on the verge of tears all at once.

A familiar voice calls your name, and you turn to Benny just as those tears begin to fall. He gathers you up into his arms and holds you there in the middle of the hallway.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, no matter how high tensions are today. I’ll talk to Dean,” Benny says. You shake your head and bury your face in his chest, clenching your fingers in his red flannel shirt.

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, despite the sob that shudders through you. You’ve lost the will to fight.

Benny shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It ain’t okay, baby.”

“Please, don’t bother Dean with this. Especially not right now,” you say. You take a moment to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself. “I’m gonna go get Robbie so Dean can rest.”

You can’t shake the feeling that Lisa is right. You do rely on Dean too much. You just don’t want to think about why that is.

Dean makes a full recovery after a few months. He never does hear about what happened in that hallway, but he knows that things need to change.

He decides to dig out his mom’s engagement ring from a locked box of his parents’ keepsakes, though he’s still waiting on the right time for it. He and Lisa start looking at houses though, for real this time. She hires a realtor and everything.

He’s making a firm decision, and he thinks it’s the right one. He wants to be there for his son, but he doesn’t want to keep “spreading himself too thin.” He has to figure out how to set some roots, and some boundaries with you while he’s at it. He’ll just have to come to terms with the idea that he won’t get to be there for everything.

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad.

Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

It’s kind of painful, if you’re honest with yourself. Sam will always be one of your closest friends from college, but in the past five years, Dean has truly become your best friend. Because you’ve told him things. The things that come from sharing a child with someone, like Sunday dinners with your parents, flipping through old yearbooks and childhood pictures—and the details of day-to-day schedules and little stupid things that happen in moments between moments.

Dean also knows the deep cuts. Like being pregnant and scared and breaking down crying on the side of the road. Like sharing the deepest well of your insecurities with someone who knows your body intimately, even if just for one amazing night...a night you’ve never quite been able to put out of your mind.

However, you know that things can’t stay the same. From now on, he just needs to be your son’s father. Nothing more, nothing less.

So today, on a crisp April 24th, you’re getting ready for a highly anticipated evening with your boyfriend. Robbie is sleeping over your parents’ house, and Benny has been planning something special for your third-year anniversary.

You slip into your new dress, a deep emerald green, with a pair of black heels you’ve rarely worn since before you got pregnant. Come to think of it, you were wearing these the night of Sam and Eileen’s bachelor-bachelorette party. The night you…well, the night Robbie was conceived.

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You even consider changing.

You’re being silly, you shake your head. They’re just shoes.

And yet. Thinking of that time so long ago, it reminds you of a recent Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.

Two Months Ago...

Your parents live modestly, but comfortably in rural Kansas. Their ranch-style home boasts a creek in the backyard, where your dad is teaching your son how to catch minnows. Your mom is inside working on an apple pie, knowing it’s both Dean’s and Robbie’s favorite.

You and Dean have kept close to the house under the shade, sitting on a bench made more comfortable by a pair of old polyester cushions with red, faded flowers.

“How much longer do you have to wear that?” you ask Dean. He glances down at his cast-covered left arm.

“Doc says it’s about ready to come off,” he says.

You nod, allowing yourself a certain smile. “How bad are you itching to grab my mom’s garden shears and cut it off right here?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, his lips twitching at a grin. “I’ve been eying those overgrown scissors for the past half hour.”

You laugh and take another sip of your glass. Yours holds sweet tea, while Dean’s has some of your dad’s favorite whiskey. You both raise your heads when Robbie yells across the backyard.

“I caught a minnow!”

“Good job, buddy,” Dean grins. “See if you can catch a marlin!”

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

“Yeah, like that orange guy in Finding Nemo,” Dean calls back.

Your dad gives Dean the same wry look you do, though yours is tinged with more amusement.

“Dean, that’s a clown fish,” you say. “He’s not gonna find that in the creek.”

“Aw, shit,” he tries to quiet his laugh. “Ah well, should keep him occupied for another twenty minutes.”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter as well. Though something else occurs to you the longer you watch your son play and explore in the creek. Your dad has the patience of a saint as he puts yet another bait worm on the hook for the kid.

“He’s starting to ask questions, you know,” you tell Dean, in a quieter voice. “‘Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together?’”

Dean's brows raise. His good humor dims when he looks over at you.

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

You take in a deep breath, considering your words now as carefully as you did with your son.

“That we care about each other a lot, as friends,” you say, meeting Dean’s eyes. “And we love Robbie very much. Nothing’s going to change that, even if you and I aren’t together like a normal mom and dad.”

Saying it like that makes your heart twinge, for more than one reason. The way Dean’s mouth twitches into a rueful smile just makes it worse, but you try your best to ignore it.

“I never thought about having to explain it to him,” he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

It’s that anxious tell of his again. You notice every time he does it.

“I have,” you admit. “I just didn’t know for sure what I was going to say until it was coming out of my mouth.”

Dean smirks a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

You roll your eyes and sip your drink, crossing your arms as well. Dean considers you then, looking at you in a way that makes you raise a brow in question.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He sits back against the bench and rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “For the record, I did try to ask you out once.”

“What?” you scoff incredulously. “No, you’ve been with Lisa since the beginning.”

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

He isn’t joking. He isn’t teasing. He’s serious as he stares back at you with those green eyes of his. Your brows furrow as you wrack your brain. Did he drunkenly leave you a voicemail on one of those “off again” episodes between him and Lisa? No. You know you’d remember something like that.

“It was a few weeks after the bachelor party,” Dean says. “I called you up, remember?”

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Dean, you did not ask me out,” you say. “You wanted to hook up. There’s a distinct difference.”

Dean frowns at you. “No, I was. I invited you over—”

“For essentially some Netflix and chill,” you retort.

“Hey, I offered to make you dinner,” he argues. “I didn’t say anything about hooking up.”

You pause at that. His earnest denial makes you actually think back to what you remember about that conversation on the phone.

You cover your lips with your fingers as you begin to realize…

“That was you asking me out?” you ask incredulously.

Dean’s brows furrow and he throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t like a little movie night?”

“Dean,” you huff another laugh. “You could’ve made it sound more like a date.”

“Well, ‘scuse me. Sorry I couldn’t afford the Ritz at the time,” he grumbles.

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The more you think about it, the more you just shake your head at yourself. Why did you have to overthink it, like you do everything?

“Wow,” you say, softer and more contrite. “I honestly never thought…”

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his gaze out ahead.

You glance over at him, now more unsure of yourself. He wouldn’t have any regrets, you think. He has Lisa. As much as they go at it, they always inevitably get back together. And now you know they hired a realtor. They’re about to start making solid steps forward.

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

He doesn’t finish it, but you think you know what he’s asking. You hesitate, your fingers flexing around your glass that beads with condensation. You set the glass down beside you.

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

“All right, pie is cooling and dinner is served!” your mom calls out. Her head pokes out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. You offer a smile, trying to hide how you jolted in your seat.

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

You turn back to Dean, who also hesitates. His eyes meet yours, but all too soon, he locks the moment away.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he rocks to his feet and goes out to get Robbie and help your dad bring in the fishing gear.

You grab Dean’s whiskey along with your tea on your way back inside the house. You consider the amber liquid disturbed in his glass, and you down the rest yourself. The burn down your throat is a good distraction. If he asks about it, you’ll say you got the glasses confused.

You know you’ll have to leave that conversation unfinished at the foot of the bench.

Now...

Benny comes by your apartment and helps you into the passenger side of his pickup truck, like the gentleman he is. He takes you to a nice restaurant in downtown, much nicer than the usual sports bar or kid-friendly restaurant. You're very much looking forward to eating at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers or "kiddie" corn dogs.

“This is gonna be really expensive,” you whisper to him, after he hands his keys over to the valet.

Benny squeezes your hand in his, leaning over to kiss your temple.

“Don’t you worry about that. We both deserve a night out.” His blue eyes gleam with amusement. However, his gaze gentles, becoming more sincere. “You work hard, carin’ for everybody around you. How about you let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes begin to water, your throat constricting with emotion. You rub his arm gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

It’s always easy with Benny. Nice and simple and easy. Nice, supportive, and considerate.

Nice and safe.

That thought follows you while you and Benny walk into to the restaurant. He’s reserved great seats in the back corner, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. It’s decorated with hydrangeas and light wood dining tables, all framed with a rod iron archway as the sun begins to set just so. After holding your chair out for you before he sits himself, Benny orders a bottle of champagne to kick things off.

He turns to you with a somewhat nervous look in his eyes, like he's steeling himself. It’s uncharacteristic of Benny, who’s always so calm and charming and sure of himself. It makes a zing of anticipation run down your spine, and…a dash of fear. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how to beat the feeling down as you fidget in your seat.

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head.

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time.

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there.

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself.

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be.

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh.

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip.

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask.

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.”

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes.

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself.

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks.

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly.

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.”

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb.

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really.

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little.

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean's smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes.

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you.

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free.

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister.

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad.

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends.

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases.

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it.

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean.

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

So please let me know what you thought! 😘

There will also be an epilogue coming on 4/27...

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"